FateBlack Reflection
by Nameless Flame Wielder
Summary: With Aizen's plans foiled in Karakura, Ichigo and his friends are called to investigate strange happenings in nearby Fuyuki City. Hang on, what the heck are Magi? And who's that woman who's calling Ichigo "Master?" AU after chapter 389 of BLEACH
1. First Day: Part I

___The First Day…(Part 1)_

Nearly everyone in class was on edge. With mere minutes before the end of school for the weekend, even the teacher was glancing at the clock just over the door, willing it to tick faster as she handed out homework to her antsy students. Even these would only prove temporary distractions for the inevitable stampede. Finally, the last second clicked away, and the bell rang. Ms. Ochi snatched her class folder off her desk, darted to the door and slapped it open before saying the blessed words as she zoomed out into the hall: "Enjoy your weekend! See you next week!"

The entire class whooped for joy save for the most composed bunch. However, even they could not suppress the grins, save Ichigo, Chad and Uryu, who may as well have been unflappable. The class emptied in a matter of seconds, leaving a handful of students who were more controlled in their departures. These consisted of Ichigo Kurosaki, the hero of many secret, epic battles, including the near-total sweep of Las Noches just over a month ago. He scratched at his orange-haired head as he reached for his bag, trademark scowl firmly in place. Uryu Ishida was already waiting, Orihime practically bouncing with excitement beside him at the door, Tatsuki on her opposite side. Rukia shouldered her bag as the behemoth form of Chad followed close behind. They departed in a group bound so tightly that not even three whole worlds could hold them apart, though there had been some very earnest attempts to do so.

Very few had failed to notice the group's changes since last spring, amplified over the last several months and culminating into their unique "clan" that they seemed to form. Ichigo was noted for no longer getting into fights. Those that tried to pick fights with him completely lost their nerve after he glared at them, sending people to their knees without him even lifting a finger. The new girl, Rukia, was seen as something of an unofficial girlfriend to Strawberry; she certainly could rein him in like one. If she heard you say so, though, the temperature oddly seemed to plummet sharply even as she modestly corrected your assumption. Orihime, though still the happy sweetheart, was far more serious and confident and wore an invisible strength few knew she could have like a mantle. The gentle giant, Chad, seemed as peaceful as ever, though when a gang confronted him after school earlier in the month, he actually swung back. He only did so once, but the act and the strength behind it seemed to completely stymie any further attempts to provoke him. Uryu Ishida, once a complete social outcast, had joined the group and bore a strong bond with them, making him even more unusual, as he seemed to have nothing in common with any of the rest. And of course, where Ichigo and Orihime were, Tatsuki was not far behind. She still protected Orihime, but now seemed to hold Ichigo in higher regard for some reason.

Together, they departed school in a mostly silent pack. Instead of splitting up over the course of their route, they would wait outside each house as whoever lived there would go inside, change and free themselves of their school burden before returning to the group. Eventually, the now casually dressed group meandered down a side street towards a dinky little candy shop hidden in a mostly empty lot. Greetings with the children who lived and worked there were exchanged before they went inside. To an outside observer, things were eerily quiet after that, with no movement coming from the scene save for the two little employees.

What you couldn't see was the massive space _beneath_ the store, where the gang had settled alongside a black cat and a scruffy, blonde-haired man in a green and white striped bucket hat and green coat. "Alright ladies and gentlemen, I'm glad you all could make it!" the shopkeeper and namesake of the Urahara Shoten said cheerfully.

Ichigo sighed. "What do you have for us this time, Hat-n-Clogs?"

"It'd better be important; Yoruichi-sensei was gonna start teaching me Shunpo today," Tatsuki groused with arms crossed. Over the time Ichigo had been in Las Noches, Tatsuki had been receiving direct combat training from Yoruichi, since both were hand-to-hand fighters. Ichigo was livid when he found out, but he relaxed a hair when he found out that Urahara had refrained from putting her through any of the known methods to give Soul Reaper powers, instead just fighting her until her own special powers awoke naturally. That still earned the blond shopkeeper a swift kick to the face from the fiery deputy Soul Reaper, but he was slowly warming up to the idea of Tatsuki at least being able to hold her own against lesser hollows that may be drawn to her high spiritual pressure.

"I assure you I wouldn't be asking all of you if this wasn't of utmost importance, my friends," he replied solemnly. Everyone immediately went silent and focused all of their attention on him. It was excessively rare for old Hat-n-Clogs to be so serious. "Have any of you been watching the news recently?"

Uryu adjusted his glasses silently, the false sunlight in the massive chamber concealing his gaze as it reflected off the lenses. "I assume you are referring to the sudden string of deaths in Fuyuki City?"

"Correct! Over the last few days, a string of 'gas leaks' and similar 'freak accidents' has claimed no less than eight lives during the night. Normally, the Soul Society would ignore this as a purely human issue, but we have reason to believe something bigger and more dangerous is going on," the way Urahara's demeanor shifted from cheery to grim and back made Ichigo briefly entertain the notion of the ex-captain being bi-polar. He knew better of course, but that didn't change how weird his outward mood swings were.

"What do you mean?" Chad rumbled.

"You were all probably too young to remember this, but about 10 years ago, a similar string of events started with a few accidents, followed by complete disappearances, culminating in the Great Fuyuki Fire that destroyed over a square mile. It was only when the fire started that Soul Society took an active interest, as it was preceded by an extremely short, massive burst of spirit energy that completely eclipsed even the Soul Society's Captain-General. By the time an investigation was underway, most of he evidence was lost in the blaze, save for traces of extremely powerful spiritual beings the likes of which have never been seen before. However, archival records indicate something like the first two steps in the process had occurred 4 times previously over the last 300 years. The spirit energy burst from the last time was something new, though. Since then, Soul Reapers assigned to Fuyuki have been advised to monitor for the early signs of an event brewing of similar magnitude," Yoruichi answered in her cat form's male, wise voice.

Rukia listened with her hand at her chin, nodding her head thoughtfully. "I see. However, there are still a few things you are going to have to explain. For one, if the Soul Society is already monitoring the situation, why did you call us? A Soul Reaper could simply call for reinforcements if the situation started again, unless…"

"You're on the right track, Kuchiki-san. The on-duty Soul Reaper was indeed able to get off a call for help before disappearing. We believe he encountered the cause of the disturbance and was killed for it. For that reason…" Hat-n-Clogs waved his hand eloquently, letting the team follow his implications.

Ichigo summed up his _nakama's_ general response quite nicely as realization dawned. "Aw, hell."

Not missing his cue, Urahara whipped out a handful of train tickets, holding them in front of his face like his trademark fan. "The Soul Society has specifically asked for you, as the unofficial rapid response force in the World of the Living, to investigate the matter and, if necessary, put a stop to it. But don't fret too much, the Soul Society is pulling some strings to cover all of your expenses, within reason, as an apology for the inconvenience and to work off some of that monster debt they owe you, so feel free to load up on souvenirs!"

The last comment made Ichigo's lips twitch as he suppressed a smile at the thought, though he switched to indignation almost immediately. "You have got to be kidding me! You mean the Soul Society is forcing us to drop everything for who-knows-how-long and throw ourselves into some crazy mystery mission? "

"Yep!" was the damnably cheery reply he received.

Tatsuki huffed as she strode forward, smirking in her oldest friend's direction. "Relax, Ichigo. This is practically an all-expenses-paid vacation! Compared to your LAST battle, this should be cake." Just from her tone, Ichigo knew Tatsuki was going to go charging in without hesitation. She had made the point abundantly clear that she was going to tag along on the next mission, regardless of his opinion. His jaw still ached from when she punched him after his return from rescuing Orihime before she hugged him and her other best friend. Though nowhere near the level of a captain or lieutenant as of yet, her unique ability to channel spirit energy into any part of her body and enhance it was proving incredibly versatile for both offense and defense.

"What about Karakura Town and school, should the mission take too long?" Uryu inquired, covering all the bases while he mulled over his vote.

"Not to worry, the Soul Society will be sending Renji and a few others to watch over Karakura while you're off gallivanting, and I doubt the Visored are going to sit back if Aizen launches any schemes while you're gone, which is highly doubtful. It's safe to say you guys in Hueco Mundo and the Soul Reapers here derailed his plans pretty handily last time. As for school, the Soul Society and I have made a few arrangements to make this seem like a school-sponsored event. No one will mind if you are gone for a bit, and you get a pass on some of the work you'll miss."

Ichigo sighed as Orihime leaned forward next to him to get his attention. "Come on, Kurosaki-kun! I think it might be good to see somewhere new. Besides, everything's already paid for! It's like winning a contest you didn't even know you entered!"

Ichigo scratched his head and surrendered. "Fine, fine. We'll go. How long will this take?"

Urahara smiled as he dealt out the tickets like a card sharp. "According to records, once the phenomenon started, there was a two to three week build-up before the events ceased. If the trend continues, you should be done without falling too far behind. On that note, bon voyage! The train leaves at 6, so pack up and say your farewells!"

For most, the preparations were uneventful, Urahara having already sent falsified letters of congratulations for winning a "cultural enrichment experience to Fuyuki City" to each of their homes. Needless to say, Ichigo had the most trouble getting ready, what with his father's "suggestions" on what to take with him and do while out and about. Yuzu was near tears, but cheered up some when Ichigo was, for once, able to give her a definitive timetable for his return. By 5:50, the gang had reconvened at the train station. It was agreed that they would eat somewhere quick on arrival and establish a base of operations at a decent hotel.

As the five teens and one century-and-a-half-old Soul Reaper boarded the train, Uryu was struck with a thought that paled his already white skin. "Guys, I just realized: how are we supposed to pay for anything? The Soul Society may have decided to pay for this venture, but we haven't received anything to do that with." His words rippled through the group, save the ever-optimistic Orihime, who shrugged.

"Don't worry, Ishida-kun. I'm sure everything will work out. Ooh! Maybe there'll be a limo waiting to take us to a fancy hotel with incredible food, like lemon and sweet bean curry with wasabi on rice!" Her tangent lightened the mood, but they still worried about their supposedly "taken care of" finances.

As the train roared down the tracks towards Fuyuki, Ichigo turned back towards Rukia, who was still seated, irritated at the "no cell phone calls" rule. She had every reason to verbally thrash Urahara for the apparent oversight of money. "Hey, Rukia, any ideas on where we start and when?" Ichigo may have been their hands down strongest fighter, but when it came to strategy and experience, he would always defer to the diminutive Soul Reaper, even after all that he had gone through.

Her response was only slightly above a whisper so as to minimize eavesdroppers. "Once we deal with the housing situation, we could start right away. Ideally, we lock our bodies in our hotel rooms to look for clues in Soul Reaper form while Uryu and the others sweep the streets for any signs of activity after sundown. We all have cell phones if we need to get in contact, right?"

Each member of the group nodded once. It was one thing that they were all glad to invest in, seeing how many times being able to call for help would have avoided half of their disasters. Minutes later, the conductor called out their stop at Fuyuki's central station. The six of them gathered into the lobby, each carrying one bag as they formed a ring around Uryu who, prepared as always, pulled out a map of the city. "I regretfully did not have the time to do as much research into the city's history and the locations of the events in question as I would have liked, but this should give us a starting point," he said in the same mildly condescending tone that was normal for him.

As the gang of super-powered souls examined the map and pointed out possible locations to stay, Chad spared a glance upwards and stared at the odd sight less than 20 yards away. His visible eye widened at the irony. "Ichigo. Turn around and look at this," as straightforward as always, he pointed with one of his thick, bronze arms over their shoulders. Instantly, the 5 followed his gaze and gaped.

Orihime's prediction had proven eerily accurate. Outside of the station, visible through the glass doors, was a black limousine. A small man was holding a sign high over his head with their names written in big black kanji just inside the station's double doors. He was dressed like a rich man's servant, and was fairly nondescript. However, Rukia recognized him, and her expression shifted to incredulousness at the possible meaning. "No way…"

Tatsuki grinned at the sight "Hey Orihime-chan, looks like your guess was right on the money!" she exclaimed as she trotted off towards the small man. The group followed suit as the figure bowed respectfully. Rukia kept shaking her head, trying to process what it meant that this particular fellow was the one waiting for them.

"On behalf of my employer, I welcome you to Fuyuki City. If you would kindly load your bags, we may be off," the man droned. He popped the trunk of the limo and stood aside as his charges loaded their bags into it. Once that was accomplished, he opened the rear door and swept his hand in a gesture to enter. Orihime practically leaped in first.

"Whee! I've never been in one of these before!" her positively giddy voice was enough of a cue for Tatsuki to climb in after her, smiling.

One by one they piled in, awed by the size of their mystery chauffeur's ride. Even Chad was able to fit comfortably. Ichigo found it hard to maintain his scowl in this thing, as this sudden pampering was a refreshing change from the norm when he got involved in spiritual matters. He occupied his time by listening to the happy chatter of Orihime as she mulled over the possible identity of their sponsor and Tatsuki's bemused responses. That and watching every building they passed as they were escorted deeper into the city, mapping the area along the road as quickly as he could. After nearly ten minutes, he noticed a distinct trend: wherever it was they were going, it was in the nicer part of town. Buildings were getting larger and fancier, with stores looking increasingly high-class.

The car finally pulled up in front of an almost obscenely grand building that could only be a true five-star hotel. The driver quickly jaunted out of the car and opened the door for them, holding his hand out to assist his six charges like a true gentleman. As the group entered the building, everyone, even the normally unflappable Chad gaped at the sheer opulence and elegance of the immense lobby. The walls had wood paneling for the first 4 feet before giving way to a tasteful cream paint that reflected the light warmly. The ceiling was easily level with most two-story house roofs, centered around a crystal chandelier the size of a small car. The entire room radiated a pleasant glow of welcome, though it usually only catered to the rich, which left the relatively poor high school students nearly overwhelmed.

A gentle cough at their side drew them back to the small man who had been leading them around so far. "My employer would like to speak with you all before you settle in. Please follow me," the man said calmly as he led them to an elevator and pressing a button labeled "P."

_'Whoever called us up here must be filthy rich to have a meeting in the penthouse,' _Ichigo mused. He and everyone in the elevator save the servant were all wondering who the Soul Society was having them meet in this fancy hotel's fanciest room of all places. Tatsuki and Orihime secretly hoped whoever it was would let them keep the penthouse for the interim. The rest were neutral about it: any room in _this_ place was bound to be impressive.

After nearly a solid minute in the elevator, the steel doors opened and revealed an ornate wooden double-door at the end of a short hall. With the twist of a key, the doors clicked open, revealing yet another awe-inspiring sight. A small landing lay before them, where they left their shoes before stepping into the penthouse proper. It was magnificent. That was the only word to describe the space that made up the living room. Nearly double the size of Orihime's entire one-bedroom apartment, the floor was fine hardwood until you got to a space that served as the room's center lounge area, where it gave way to soft gray carpeting. Two couches and two expensive-looking recliners were arrayed around a glass table, which in turn was placed before a stone fireplace, where an already made fire burned in a warm welcome. A flat-screen TV nearly filled the space over the hearth, and sitting in one of those recliners, dressed in an immaculate black business suit and sipping a glass of white wine, was their mystery host.

Byakuya Kuchiki, captain of Squad 6 and 28th head of the Kuchiki noble family.


	2. First Day: Part II

_First Day… (Part II)_

"Nii-sama!" Rukia nearly fainted on the spot as her adoptive brother gestured wordlessly at the couches around him. Ichigo scowled and plopped down directly across from the nobleman. Chad sat to his left and Orihime bounced onto the cushion to his right. Uryu took his seat on the other couch, leaning forward with a scowl rivaling Ichigo's as he eyed the Soul Reaper captain darkly. Tatsuki and Rukia took the longest to seat themselves, though for entirely different reasons. Rukia was just shy of being in shock as her brother, to her knowledge, rarely bothered to visit the human world except in the direst of circumstances. It was kind of nice in a bizarre way, as it was long established that moments like this subtly showed that he was genuinely concerned for his adoptive sister's well-being.

Tatsuki on the other hand, was still trying to make sense of the reactions the pretty-boy in the monkey suit had evoked from her friends. It was apparent that there was some sort of history between him and Ichigo, based on the way he refrained from the usual sarcasm. Rukia was looking like she had just seen a Hollow sprout from the man's ears, while Uryu practically radiated distaste at the man's presence. The other two were obviously surprised, but not nearly as dynamic in their reactions.

Once they had shaken themselves from their stupors long enough to take their seats, Byakuya spoke. "Good evening. I trust your trip was uneventful," every word bore his aristocratic tone of impassive condescension, even when being cordial. "The Soul Society has decided to have the six of you investigate the incidents that have been occurring over the last few days. I am here to supply you with what the preliminary research has gleaned for this mission.

"The first disappearance occurred three nights ago, a single human male, healthy and in the prime of his life. The body was found in an alley in the Shinto District, near the corner of 6th and Main Street at around 8:00pm. The Soul Reaper who had been stationed to this area noted two oddities. For one, no soul was found to Konso, and the man had been killed by a single thrust through the heart by a bladed weapon."

Orihime looked mortified at the thought, but kept silent, having seen the real thing far more times than she cared to remember.

Ichigo rolled his eyes. "Sounds like a Hollow attack to me."

"Indeed, Ichigo Kurosaki. That was the initial reaction to the event. We attempted to track the attacker, which turned up nothing. It was conjectured that the Hollow was a holdover from Aizen's early experiments, one with the ability to conceal its spiritual pressure. The following evening, 3 more people were slain in the same manner on the opposite side of the same district. By the time our Soul Reaper had located the scene, any trace of the attacker, or attackers, was gone."

"I take it that the other 4, along with said Soul Reaper, were slain last night, then?" Uryu inquired while he adjusted his glasses.

"You would be correct, Uryu Ishida. The last we had heard from him was a distress call on his soul pager." The nobleman then reached into his inner coat pocket and withdrew a small black box with a set of buttons. "Here is the last message we received," he said as a small, green button was pressed. Sound filled the room as clearly as if they were hearing it through their own phones at their ears.

"Kazuma Tachibana of Squad 7 reporting in! I'm in dire need of assistance, immediately! The source of the disappearances turns out to be… some sort of human soul! Oh Kami, he's after me, and he's fast, faster than my Shunpo! He's gaining! Send someone! Anyone! You'll recognize him immediately! Blue armor, blood red barbed spear! HURRY! Send-" his voice was cut off by the sound of a choked gasp, of steel ripping through flesh and the crack of bone.

Silence.

Byakuya turned off the device, gauging the reactions of the humans and his little sister. Inoue looked pensive, but was obviously unwilling to back down. Admirable. He had no doubts that Kurosaki and the Quincy would stay and do their duty. He did not know enough about the others to say anything, but from what he understood, the large one, Sado, was a dependable ally, and Rukia was a professional Soul Reaper. That left the new girl, one whom he had never seen before. The woman did not bear herself like a lady at all, wearing no visible makeup, and letting her raven-black hair wave and spike as though she merely ran a hand through it every morning and called it good. To her credit, she had the poise of a warrior, if an untested one, almost like Ichigo must have been before they crossed paths. Her determination also appeared to be just as strong, if her obsidian eyes were anything to go by.

"Thanks for the info, Byakuya. We'll get started as soon as we get our stuff settled. Where are we supposed to stay, anyway?" Said captain suppressed a twitch at the familiar form of address that Kurosaki still used. However, the boy was definitely living up to the responsibilities of a true Soul Reaper without hesitation. Truly a worthy ally. He shifted his gaze to the others, who also bore resolute expressions like the deputy Reaper.

"Nii-sama, I will do my best," his little sister would do the Kuchiki clan proud, he knew.

"If two Soul Reapers are doing this, then one Quincy should be sufficient to cover for their faults." Byakuya narrowed his eyes slightly as the Ishida heir gave a superior smirk, but he accepted the response.

"Count me in!" the ebon haired girl exclaimed, full of vigor.

Yasutora's low grunt and slow nod was a sufficient indication of his agreement.

Lastly, Orihime Inoue fidgeted before looking him square in the eye. "I'll help any way I can," she said quietly, even though her eyes were alight with conviction. Excellent.

Standing to his full height, the patriarch of the Kuchiki line nodded in approval. "Very well. The keys to this room are in the envelope on the dining room table. Each of you also will find the credit cards that will pay for any expenses you may incur in the line of duty. Try to keep your activities as secret as possible, but work quickly," he said while heading towards the door. "I must return to the Soul Society. Good evening and good luck." He departed gracefully, leaving the six silent warriors to contemplate their mission.

After a few minutes of tense silence, a low growl emanated from the group. They simultaneously stiffened before Orihime burst into light, sheepish laughter. "Sorry about that. Guess my stomach finally got tired of waiting!"

The heavy atmosphere broke completely as Tatsuki patted Orihime's head, an act that caused the auburn-haired beauty's head to lean in like a contented animal. "Well, I think it's a great idea. Can't exactly do our job on an empty stomach, right?"

As one, the group nodded, hunger pushing aside their nerves for the moment. Due to the urgency, though, the group settled for simply picking up a few pizzas from a place Ichigo had spotted on the way rather than dawdle at somewhere fancier that night. Having the pizza delivered was shot down simply because they had no clue what the number was to call for one and it seemed a little silly to ask for pizza delivery in a _penthouse_ of all places. After agreeing on this, Ichigo put the big question for the night out: "So, who's going to grab 'em?"

Uryu already had the perfect excuse for himself. "I don't think I should, as I plan on getting my laptop set up and gather some basic information for tonight's patrol. You should do it, Kurosaki-san, since you have no real talents outside of combat save manual labor," he replied with a glint of mirth behind his rectangular glasses.

The Vizard scowled deeper, shoved his hands in his pockets and snorted. "Pfft. You probably couldn't lift the pizzas anyway."

Uryu ignored the verbal counter as he pulled out his sleek, white (no surprise there) laptop and began setting up a workstation near the fireplace. Eventually, it was decided that luck would determine the errand, with Tatsuki rolling a die from her bag, each member represented by a number. With that roll, Ichigo groaned as fate decreed he would trudge out into the night to grab dinner. He begrudgingly took the party's orders for toppings and sizes before stalking out to the elevator.

Two minutes later, he returned. Growling amidst his friends' snickers, he swiped a set of keys from the tabletop where they had been dumped.

"Don't. Say. Anything," he growled irritably as he spun on his heel back the way he came.

* * *

It was a pleasantly cool night in Fuyuki City. Winters here were always rather mild, but it was just cold enough to warrant heavier coats as every breath sent streamers of fog swirling into the air. Despite the air's chill, Ichigo found the brisk sensation refreshing. Over the last 8 months or so, he had experienced more hardship than most humans could imagine in a dozen lifetimes. A little cool, peaceful air was a beautiful contrast to the heat of battle that had become an almost daily part of his life. He took his time, mapping out the rooftops and streets he passed as far as he could see. If they ran into their mystery murderer, being able to track him from any direction regardless of elevation would be invaluable. _'You're not the only one who thinks ahead, Ishida,'_ he thought smugly as he stopped at yet another intersection. Sighing, Ichigo turned his attention skyward while he waited for the light to change. The evening sky was proving pleasant, far more so than the black THING that loomed over Hueco Mundo. Small, thin clouds hid a few stars and the moon, making those that were visible shine even brighter.

"Quite beautiful, aren't they?" a wistful voice jarred him from his thoughts. Turning slowly, Ichigo realized he had been joined at the crosswalk by a young man about his age or slightly older. His poise was one of absolute confidence, slightly leaning back with hands in his pockets. He was surprisingly tall, about the same size as Ichigo, dressed in a white shirt under a black jacket and matching black jeans. Simple white tennis shoes covered his feet. His short, straight hair was a vibrant blonde, marking him as a foreigner, and his eyes were almost… crimson? Interestingly, the two could have likely passed for brothers, even sharing the same proud but relaxed posture. The real difference lay in their expressions: Ichigo's was a deep scowl that crunched up his brow and gave off an unmistakable aura of disapproval. In contrast, the stranger's expression held a great deal of perpetual amusement, a small, arrogant smile playing on his lips.

The fact that this odd stranger had randomly struck up a conversation in the middle of a city plagued by what he knew were brutal murders set warning flags up in Ichigo's head. Nevertheless, he played dumb while idly fingering the deputy pass in his pocket. "Yeah," he replied softly, lifting his eyes back to the tiny motes of light overhead.

The stranger's smile widened slightly. "This time of year is my favorite. I'm not sure if it's the winter air or my imagination, but the stars always seem to shine the brightest around now." The young man turned to the deputy Soul Reaper. He bowed ever so slightly, one hand on his chest, almost like an English gentleman. "I am Gil. And you?"

Something about the foreigner's almost archaic manner of greeting and ultra-polite tone set Ichigo's instincts on high alert. However, his sense of honor demanded he reciprocate the introduction. "Ichigo Kurosaki."

Gil's reaction to his name defied all trends, "'One who protects,' hm? A good, strong name. It is a pleasure to meet you."

It was increasingly hard to feel on guard around this guy, a trait that Ichigo found more alarming than anything else. He reminded him too much of Aizen for his liking. Still, he knew it was in his best interest to at least try to be what passed for civil until he could ascertain Gil's motives. "You know, you're one of the only people I've met to actually get my name right. Most think my parents were sadistic enough to name me after a fruit."

A small chuckle escaped the blonde's lips as he glanced at the crossing signal. "Sad how all but a select few are like that, isn't it?" as he spoke, the light changed and the two crossed side by side before Ichigo turned left towards the pizza joint, while Gil continued going straight. As though struck with a thought, Gil called back to the retreating orange head. "Oh, and Kurosaki-san, if you intend to survive for very long, I would recommend you look into summoning your Servant soon. Try for Saber, if you can."

The instant those words reached Ichigo's ears, he whirled around on his heels, perplexed at the bizarre statement. The blond enigma had just disappeared behind the building at the corner when Ichigo bolted after him. He skidded to a halt as he reached the intersection, badge in hand, and whipped his head around furiously for any sign of the strange foreigner. Tentatively, he walked up the street, tuning his senses outward, even his still miserable spiritual awareness. He cursed as he peered down an alleyway 100 yards further up the street. Whoever that Gil guy was, he was long gone, leaving the deputy Soul Reaper fuming and more than a little confused. Grumbling small invectives, he pocketed his badge and stalked back towards the pizza place, his peaceful mood effectively shattered.

He made it no more than 10 steps back when his combat instincts caused him to throw himself forward, where he rolled and twisted back at where he had been standing less than a second ago. Impaled in the street was a long, ornate red spear, its dagger-like head lined with several barbs near the haft. Ichigo followed the angle of the weapon and watched as a man landed next to it, having seemingly leapt from nowhere.

The figure was dressed in deep blue form-fitting armor trimmed with silver tracing along his legs and waist, while interlocking silver plates formed flexible spaulders over the shoulders and around his neck in a collar. His body was completely covered save for the hands and head. His long, dark hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail, and his blood red eyes were practically leaking murderous intent. Despite that, the attacker's face was set in an almost chipper smile, and his tone was remarkably friendly. "Hey, not bad there, kid! First time somebody's gone and dodged that!" The man said as he plucked the spear from the concrete effortlessly, twirling it once before leveling the blade at Ichigo's heart. "No hard feelings kid, just following orders, so…" he finished as he lunged without so much as a twitch of warning.

Ichigo grit his teeth and narrowed his eyes. This guy was quick, but not so quick that his experienced eyes couldn't track him. The issue was the power restriction that being in his body brought, and he wouldn't dare risk using his badge in the middle of the sidewalk where anyone could mess with his helpless body. Twisting on his heel, Ichigo barely dodged the blue spearman's thrust and took off like a shot. Even with the "meat suit" on, he was still able to draw on some of his soul's tremendous power to squeeze just a little extra speed out. Turning down an alleyway, the deputy Soul Reaper pushed a little harder as he spotted the chain-link fence ahead, pulling a stunt he once saw in some action movie. He jumped to the wall to his side, using that kick up enough height to clear the barrier. He landed in a crouch before speeding off again, knowing his pursuer would not be slowed for long with something like that. "This will have to do…" Ichigo muttered to himself as the alley opened up into what looked like a construction site, offering plenty of places to hide his body and take the fight to the enemy. He turned back to the alley mouth, yanking out his badge.

"Heh, I gotta say, kid, you're damn fast for a human. Hell, with the way you were going, I'd say you might have been the fourth," a happy, relaxed voice came from behind him. Ichigo spun back around to see his pursuer sitting lazily on a pile of steel girders, his spear leaning on his shoulder. Standing, the warrior once more raised his spear and took his stance. "I'm sure you can guess what happens now," he added, his friendly tone dissolving into a low, coldly cruel one.

"Yeah, you get beaten to a bloody mess!" Ichigo smirked as he brought his badge around to his chest-

Only to have it swatted from his hand by an impossibly fast strike from the spearman, who had somehow closed the gap even faster than an average shunpo. "Whoops! Can't have pulling off any fancy tricks at this stage in the game," he said with a confident smirk on his lips. Planting the blade of the red spear in the ground, he swung his leg around and smashed Ichigo's cheek and forearm, which had instinctively risen to intercept the blow.

"Damn!" Ichigo spat as he skidded back under the scaffolding of the new building. Before he could regain his feet, he was pinned in place by a blue boot that drove the air from his lungs, while the spear loomed menacingly overhead. Ichigo watched unflinchingly as the crimson blade rose ever so slightly before slicing through the air towards his head. _'Crap! No way am I dying like a dog here! Not after all the crap I've been through!' _he mentally screamed as time seemed to slow for him, his face setting into a grim scowl. Furiously, he swung his left arm at the man's calf, empowering it with as much spirit energy as he could muster. The air almost warped with his spiking energy as his would-be murderer took what felt like a gunshot to the leg, causing him to stumble and nick the boy's knuckles with the razor sharp blade as he steadied himself several yards back.

"You damn punk! That's gonna be a bitch to heal! Here I was trying to be nice and end this quick and easy, but no, you just had to go and piss me off!" he snarled, rage blazing in his crimson eyes as he stepped back to assess the damage. While not broken, the attacker could tell his leg was definitely not going to be at full strength for at least a day unless he managed to gain some fresh mana. _'Must be my lucky day that this feisty bastard practically bleeds the stuff,'_ he thought irritably.

Any further words died in his throat as he watched the spectacle before him unfold. Small droplets of blood spilled off the boy's hand to the dusty ground, where they seemed to slither of their own accord, carving a wide circle into the ground beside the obviously baffled berry-head. The spearman, however, knew exactly what that circle was. "Oh, hell no, kid. HELL! NO!" he roared as he charged again.

By now, the bloody circle had begun to glow a dull red; a pattern forming in the center as small amounts of the life liquid seemed to spread impossibly, filling the space with burning runes in a language he had never seen before. Ichigo stared dumbfounded at the symbols, drawn to them on a level that reminded him of first meeting Zangetsu, especially the large central marking that slowly took shape. Sixteen curved lines arrayed themselves around a circle about the size of a soccer ball like the legs of a spider, while two more lines snaked away towards the outer edge. Ichigo would have stared longer if his bleeding hand hadn't begun to burn. He winced and withdrew the hand, only just seeing the spearman's charge bring him within six feet. Ichigo growled and prepared to dodge. His mind raced. _'If I can just get my badge, this fight's mine, otherwise…'_

As if in response, the shining circle erupted with power. The explosive surge spiraled outward, forming a wall of wind and dust that concealed the symbols that had formed from Ichigo's very blood. Blocking the onslaught with his injured hand, he thought he heard the sound of metal striking metal and the faint rattling of a chain over the wind tearing at his ears. An instant later, the cyclone simply died, allowing Ichigo to see the spearman several yards back, looking extremely ticked at whatever was in the center of the clearing haze. For a few seconds, he forgot his predicament entirely as the dust around him finally settled, revealing what had come from the circle's display.

Ichigo Kurosaki gaped from his prone position. The tall woman before him was absolutely stunning, her figure perfectly proportioned. Long, toned legs were encased in thigh-high black boots, trimmed with purple. Her strapless one-piece dress hugged her curvaceous hips and large bust gorgeously, drying his mouth even as he tore his eyes up past the purple collar around her elegant neck to her face. The shape was almost a man's ideal. Long, long lavender hair flowed down and around her in a perfectly straight river that reached down to her ankles. Her arms were slender but toned, wearing black sleeves that left her delicate fingers free and held in place by purple bangles just below her shoulders and at the wrists. The only thing that was missing from the image was her eyes which, strangely, were hidden behind a purple half-mask. Two small silver buckles sealed it over a visible seam in the center that suspiciously resembled a single eye. Ichigo guessed she must still be able to see the world around her, as she slowly turned her head towards him. When she finally spoke, her silky, sultry voice nearly fried his brain, though from the sound or the actual words he couldn't say, even if his voice _had_ beenworking.

"I ask of you, are you my Master?"

Dumbfounded as he was, Ichigo still tried to get his mouth to say something, especially considering her rather random statement. Before he managed to organize his thoughts, she spoke again, which set his brain back to square one. Again, from the sound or the actual words, he couldn't say. "Servant Rider, reporting in answer to your summons."

Fumbling over his seemingly useless tongue, Ichigo still managed to squeeze out "Servant? Summons?!" he dropped his left hand back to the ground as he gawked, an act that drew the woman's attention to the extremity. His eyes widened as he followed what he guessed was her gaze and caught sight what was on the back of his bloody hand. A faintly glowing symbol, like a tattoo of a three-petaled flower pulsated with an inner red energy. "What the hell is this?" he almost shouted as he inspected the symbol, the burning sensation subsiding along with most of the glow.

"The Command Mantra signifies your status as a Master. My blade is yours, and you must trust your fate to me," her voice was indeed beautiful, but the words were intoned as though rehearsing a long memorized oath. "Please rest now, Master. I will deal with the enemy," she added gently, striding out towards the blue warrior without any hesitation. Nursing his still stinging hand, Ichigo finally managed to stand, frowning as the woman lifted her arms away from her sides slightly, hands open as though surrendering. The newly branded Master watched, only somewhat surprised as she grasped the air, instantly causing two dagger-like blades to form in her grip. Each was an 18 inch long spike, topped with a spiked ring anchored to a length of chain that coiled around her feet, terminating in a simple metal hoop at the other end.

"Strange weapon ya got there, lady. What class are ya? Caster?" the spearman asked with eyes narrowed dangerously.

The woman said nothing, instead opting to throw the spike in her right hand with lightning speed. He parried quickly, but she had disappeared the moment he took his eyes off her, only to appear behind him, left dagger flashing towards his neck. His response was to crouch beneath her, swinging his polearm in a wide sweep that she evaded with a graceful backflip. Landing in a low, wide crouch, fingertips lightly touching the dirt, she leaned back on her heels before rocketing forward at speeds that left the spearman completely on the defensive, his injured leg notably hampering his reactions. Her blades were thrown with a marksman's accuracy, using the chain to control their angle and retrieve them as he parried, while she stayed just outside the flashing spear's range, only stepping in to take advantage of his faltering defenses and lash out with blisteringly fast kicks. Despite the situation, the spear wielder was all smiles, worked up into a battle frenzy that slowly drove away any pain he may have been feeling moments ago. The longer the fight progressed, the more sure-footed he became. His blows carried tremendous power and his ability to switch from offense to defense and back proved nearly flawless.

"Not terribly talkative, are ya? Is it really such a good idea to be fighting now? Your Master obviously hasn't got a clue what's going on, and the fight's not even officially on yet. Care to take a rain check on this duel?" Lancer asked as his new opponent ducked under his thrust and lunged inside his guard.

Her reply, given in an almost seductive tone barely above a whisper, was "No."

Neither noticed Ichigo shoot over to where his deputy badge had landed.

Several exchanges passed between the two warriors, blurring with their speed until all that could be seen was a streak of purple that blazed against a needle of crimson, the rest of their forms melting into the night.

"Crap, you're fast! Ah well, just means you might entertain me more!" the spearman laughed heartily as he adjusted his grip.

"And here I thought Lancer was the most agile of the Servant classes. You must be quite the disappointment," the woman said in reply, a note of amusement in her silken voice.

"Keep talking and you'll miss the part where you die," the man dubbed Lancer countered dryly as he lowered the spear's tip, drawing on the power of the curse hidden within the blade. In response to his silent command, the entire weapon seemed to vibrate, glowing faintly red, the night air growing colder as all heat was drawn to the weapon, which practically radiated its own bloodlust.

Once the blade was invoked, the woman would already be dead, even before he actually attacked. Such was the nature of the Spear of Impaling Barbed Death, Gae Bolg. Its attack, which inverted the concept of causality, could, in the hands of a skilled and bold master, almost single-handedly guarantee victory in the secret war. However, as luck would have it, Lancer never got the chance to demonstrate, as a black mass descended from above. Canceling the attack in favor of keeping his head, Lancer twirled his lance and intercepted the incoming strike. However, unlike his other opponent, this one had a phenomenal amount of power, and he found himself skidding several yards backwards, barely holding his stance as his leg painfully reminded him of the earlier blow. "Who the hell?"

Lancer could only blink as a black robed figure stood to his full height, a ridiculously oversized cleaver blade in his hands. What stunned him the most was the scowling face and bright orange hair, distinctive traits that indicated this samurai man was the same punk he had been playing around with earlier. _'How the hell did he get so strong?'_ he mentally demanded. The kid had wrapped his injured knuckles in the cloth that trailed from the bizarre excuse for a sword's grip. "Just what the hell are you, kid?"

"Ichigo Kurosaki, deputy Soul Reaper," he replied with the straightforward manner that defined him. Not wasting a moment, he launched himself at his still reeling opponent, Zangetsu's massive edge sweeping across Lancer's chest level. In reply, the red spear attempted to redirect the blade and go for an easy kill. Ichigo's strength, however, took that option and tossed it aside. Instead, Lancer braced his spear against the ground and locked the shaft against the heavy cleaver.

Lancer's grin widened. "My sympathies, Ichigo. Your parents must have had a sick sense of humor to name you after a fruit!" Sparks flew as the soul slayer pushed against the cursed javelin, a deadlock truly reminiscent two legendary heroes of old dueling to the death. Neither warrior paid heed to this, and were blindsided by a single steel spike jamming hard into Lancer's right arm, the chain attached pulling back the weapon as the limb's strength gave out. Never one to waste an opportunity, Ichigo powered through, forcing the agile warrior to leap away. Blood spattered against the dirt from the long but shallow wound that had opened up, courtesy of Zangetsu's obscenely sharp edge.

Clasping his left arm tightly over his chest, his hand covering the hole in his other arm that still clutched the red spear, Lancer sneered before leaping straight up to the roof of one of the nearby buildings. Glaring daggers at the two warriors, he growled "Tch. Two-on-one ain't exactly fair."

The woman smiled lightly at her enemy's irritation. "Running away? Not terribly heroic, are you?"

"Don't give me that. Master's orders. Feel free to follow if you wanna die, though," he called back as he ducked away into the night.

Gritting his teeth at where the spearman had vanished, Ichigo spared a glance back at the woman, then at his body, and finally sighed. As much as he REALLY wanted to give chase, his body was not exactly in the safest place at the moment, and for all he knew, the woman who had dubbed him "Master" could prove just as dangerous if left alone. "Alright, who are you, where did you come from, and why the heck did you call me 'Master?'" he asked as he turned back to the woman, Zangetsu resting lightly on his shoulder.

Though she did not seem to move or change her expression, Ichigo read the slightest twitch and change in posture with machine-like precision. It was one thing he would be forever grateful to Hat-n-Clogs for helping him refine. That particular skill had saved his life more times than he could count, especially against foes as formidable and essentially expressionless as Ulquiorra Schiffer and Byakuya Kuchiki. From his reading, he deduced the woman was somewhat confused, agitated and wary.

"I am Rider. You summoned me to be your Servant in this 5th Holy Grail War. The mark on your hand confirms your role as my magus charge," she said as she stood to her full height, still lightly holding her daggers.

Ichigo groaned, glancing skyward. _'Okay, it's a start, but now I have more questions than answers! This could take a while…'_ shrugging, he started toward his body, allowing Zangetsu to be re-wrapped in its cloth, tearing away at where he had wrapped his still bleeding hand to resume its place of rest on his back. Rider watched him carefully, making him feel a little awkward as he slipped into his body, which soon moved to his will once again. He dusted himself off as he stood up and turned back towards the woman who was apparently now some soldier under his command. Judging from her posture, the way her daggers drooped a little, and the way her mouth hung open very slightly, that little trick of his must have blown her mind. He suppressed a chuckle at the look and put on his trademark scowl. "Look, I have to grab dinner and get back to my friends. You can explain everything when we meet up."

Banishing her weapons to whence they came, Rider nodded and followed a few steps behind the orange haired hero, silently analyzing the Master that had called her. _'Ichigo Kurosaki, was it? A human that can perform astral projection? No, it can't be that simple; astral projection completely de-materializes the separated soul, but when he did it, his spirit retained physical substance and was empowered in a manner akin to a Heroic Spirit. In particular, his weapon implies similar abilities to a Saber. And his mana… it's so abundant that even performing on the level of a Servant while maintaining one of his own seems to require no conscious effort or preparation on his part. Such an interesting young man…'_ she mused from a few paces back. She stopped in front of the chain link fence midway through the alley, seeing her Master do the same. Sighing, Ichigo jumped up and grabbed the top of the fence and vaulted over lightly, significantly less hurried than last time. His frown deepened slightly as he briefly glanced at his left hand, which still occasionally dripped blood before looking at her. Wordlessly, Rider jumped clear over the fence, landing with nary a sound next to him in a single bound.

Ichigo found it hard not to stare now that the rush of battle wasn't dominating his focus. As previously observed, the woman who called herself Rider was an absolutely breathtaking woman, and she didn't seem to actively attempt to show herself off, unlike the 10th division lieutenant he briefly met. Every movement was as graceful as a dancer's, her poise flawless, and each little motion having a level of gentle sensuality to it. As she stood, her long hair flowed around her, almost like it was floating to avoid the ground. Naturally, Ichigo's mind went blank for a second before his own stubborn nature crushed any thoughts and reminded himself of his situation. Wordlessly he turned and continued his walking, only to be interrupted by a telltale ringing in his pocket.

Cellphone out, Ichigo grunted out a terse "Yeah?"

It was the unmistakable high voice of a nervous Inoue that replied. "Kurosaki-kun! Thank goodness! Are you alright?"

"Yeah… Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, um… we sensed you're spiritual pressure… it, um…" Ichigo sighed as the obviously relieved brunette stumbled over her own tongue.

"Yeah, I had to fight against the murderer. I had to leave my body to take him. He managed to get away, but I have a new lead to discuss when I get back."

"You fought the murderer?! Don't worry, Kurosaki-kun, Rukia's on the way!" she cried into the phone before a "click" cut off the call.

"Hey wait a- …oh brother…" the orange-haired hero grumbled as his attempts at a simple reassurance were cut off by the bubbly girl. He clicked his phone shut and sighed to himself.

The sultry voice behind him sent chills up his spine as Rider reminded him of her presence. "Master, who were you speaking to? Should I hide myself or prepare for battle?"

Ichigo glared a little at the woman before pinching the bridge of his nose. "First off, would you STOP calling me 'Master'? Makes me uncomfortable. My name is Ichigo Kurosaki, so call me either Kurosaki or Ichigo. And don't you dare add -sama to it! Secondly, one of my friends should be here in a minute, so don't attack her. Don't bother hiding, either. I'll just introduce you and we can be done with it."

Rider remained silent, inclining her head slightly in thought at his rather bizarre requests. "Very well, Ma- Ichigo."

The two continued until they reached the mouth of the alley, where Ichigo received another call, trying the Vizard's rather limited patience further. Again, he started off with "Yeah?"

It was Rukia this time. "Ichigo! Are you alright? What happened?"

"Relax, Rukia! I'm fine! What's got everyone so riled up?"

"How can you be fine?! Your spiritual pressure just vanished not 5 minutes ago!"

"…Say what?"

"That torrent of spiritual pressure you give off all the time? It's gone!"

"What do you mean 'gone?' I feel fine! I even fought like usual when I was in soul form!"

"Then what happened? I can't sense you at all!"

"Calm down already! Just… come to the corner of…" he glanced around, locating a street sign as he reached the corner he parted company with Gil at. "9th and Avenue A."

"I'll be right there, don't move!"

"Alright, alright, geez," he finished as he hung up. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, growing weary of the fact that his scratch had yet to stop bleeding. Oh well. Orihime could reject the wound with no problems. The real issue was the fact that everyone apparently lost track of his spiritual pressure. If that was the case, it must have happened after he got back in his body. Maybe Uryu could figure it out. He always was the most spiritual aware of the team. Heck, if he was lucky (fat chance of that…) he might be able to learn something about what kind of entity Rider was. It was already obvious neither she nor that Lancer guy were ordinary humans or souls. Despite resembling humans, details such as hair and/or eye color were bizarre, but they were almost like Soul Reapers, in a way. Whoever these people were, they could move around with preternatural speed, and could even see Soul Reapers. And while we're thinking about it, what the heck is this Holy Grail War Rider mentioned, anyway?

Rider remained perfectly silent and still while she continued to ponder the boy who had summoned her from behind the Breaker Gorgon. Ichigo was unlike anything she anticipated from a Master. She wondered if his demeanor would change any once he understood what was at stake in the war. The fact that not even the vaguest hint of recognition had passed over him when she mentioned the Holy Grail War was peculiar, but soldiers cannot choose their leaders, she reasoned just as she saw a dark-clothed figure approach at great speed using the rooftops. Another Servant? "Ichigo, someone's coming. Shall I intercept?"

"That's who we're waiting for. Stay here," Ichigo said evenly as the petite, raven-haired Soul Reaper landed in front of him, worry evident in her big, indigo eyes. Seeing him brought relief to her face, but her features hardened like a professional as she spotted the woman behind him.

"Ichigo, is anything wrong? Who is that behind you?" Ichigo got the distinct chill that accompanied Rukia's surprisingly fierce temper.

Fighting down the impulse to break out in a cold sweat, he replied, "A lead. She calls herself Rider, and she helped me against that spear-wielding lunatic."

Rukia never took her eyes off the still woman, though she inclined her head in Ichigo's direction. "You needed help? Did the attacker or she do something to your spiritual pressure?"

"No! At least not that I've noticed. As for the help, only until I managed to get out of my body, then things got easy. Spearman-"

"Lancer," Rider interjected.

"-Lancer, whatever… Anyway, he managed to knock away my deputy badge and keep me away from it until Rider stepped in to hold him off. If anything you should thank her," Ichigo finished.

Rukia assessed the woman briefly before bowing. "You have my thanks, Rider-san. Now, if you will accompany me, I'll take you to where we are staying."

Rider frowned slightly. "It is my duty to protect Ichigo, and so I will stay by his side. If he decides to go with you, I will follow."

"Gah, fine. We'll all go. We can grab dinner later," Ichigo grumbled as he scratched the back of his head irritably. Rukia nodded in agreement as she leapt back towards the rooftops. The young Vizard sighed as he waited to cross the intersection. This was _not_ what he had in mind when he left for a simple pizza run.


	3. First Day: Conclusion

AN: I'd like to extend a heartfelt thanks to all of those who have read and/or reviewed my first story. Also, special mention goes to Logan- Murder of Crows. A hearty thanks for all of your assistance in ironing out my ideas.

Lastly, with college starting back up after the holidays, updates will be very sparse from here on out, but I thank you all in advance for your patience: rest assured I **will** finish this thing, no matter how long it takes.

WARNING: This chapter contains lots of exposition, so don't expect much action yet.

* * *

_The First Day (Conclusion)_

It's no secret that Uryu Ishida took great pride in his skills as a Quincy, particularly the ability to sense and identify spiritual pressure, quickly sorting them by intensity, type, and individual with such clarity that he could determine the shape and size of a foe, as well as its relative strength without even needing to see his target. A useful talent for the long-range sniping tactics developed by his ancestors.

However, right now, even he was baffled by what he was sensing. A comet of spiritual pressure buzzed at the edge of his senses a few moments after Ichigo left. The streak had a mass of fuzzy energy at the end that was slowly dissipating into the air, though it seemed to be constantly replenishing itself as though fed by the streak's distant source. The shape was indeterminable, save for that it was human-like, and its fluctuating pressure ranged from barely an aware soul to roughly lieutenant level. Specifics were impossible to figure out. He sensed it scuffle with Kurosaki, but he thought nothing of it, initially. Once he found a suitable location, Ichigo would simply drop his body and finish the matter, and things would calm down. He tuned out for a few minutes as he pulled up news reports on the murders over the last week, particularly the quadruple-murder from yesterday.

Then, it happened. Ichigo's spiritual pressure, normally a calming, if rough, torrent of power that marked his location like a neon billboard, simply vanished without a trace. Immediately, the five spiritually aware souls shared shocked and fearful glances before wordlessly closing their eyes and sending out their combined spiritual awareness in a wide area search. After nearly a minute of continuous spiritual energy pulses, each detecting nearly every soul within a 3-mile radius, Uryu paled slightly more than his normal skin tone. He sensed the location where the fuzzy pressure crossed Ichigo's, and felt an additional one, similar in composition, but its "linked" pressure was only a few feet away, completely jamming any positive ID. It was like a source of spiritual pressure was being funneled into a separate entity, like maintaining a zanpakutou spirit. However, from what he understood, those beings shared the same signature feel as their wielder. As far as he understood it, if Ichigo was manifesting Zangetsu for some reason, it would feel like there were two Ichigos. Such was not the case here. The new pressure was bizarre: simultaneously dark, twisted, yet soft and gentle in its feel. At the same time, though, it bristled with power that seemed on par with his own, though its fuzzy and unstable nature made that hard to verify.

Surprisingly, it was Chad of all people who broke the silence. "I'll go and check it out," he said calmly, though those that knew him could tell he was just as nervous and confused as the rest.

"I'll go. I can take to the roofs faster than you can run. Orihime, see if you can reach him on his phone," Rukia took charge as she popped out her Soul Candy from her dress pocket. Tatsuki paled as Rukia opened her mouth. She had the pleasure of meeting the psycho rabbit soul once before, early in her training after the rescue team got back. It was not an experience she wanted to repeat.

She could only watch in silent horror as the pill disappeared down her throat before the Soul Reaper separated from her false body. The brief pause that followed reminded the karate expert of the phrase "calm before the storm," as she watched the substitute soul take over the gigai, eyes opening slowly. Rukia simply told the substitute soul to "take care of her gigai" and that she'd return shortly before she leapt out the window into the night. Chappy smiled happily as she looked around the room, absorbing her surroundings as enthusiastically as a small child before she took in the group. Tatsuki was starting to sweat as the possessed gigai saw each of them. She swore the rabbit-like soul's eyes lingered on her more than any of the others before she bounded over to Orihime, who had just hung up after successfully reaching Ichigo.

"Inoue-san! It's good to see you again! Hop," she chirped to the brunette, who giggled happily, her bubbly nature worked into overdrive. For a brief moment, Tatsuki thought she might have dodged the proverbial bullet when Chappy turned back towards her. "And to you too, Arisawa-san! Hop."

'_Shit,' _she thought as the sub-soul practically dragged her into the "girl's circle." Let the torture for tomboys everywhere begin… For what seemed in her mind to be an eternity, she was forced to indulge two extremely bubbly young women who had both boundless energy and bizarre brains that could drive psychoanalysts to leap screaming out of their high-rise offices. They talked about anything that popped to mind, from space aliens to new food ideas to their own roles in battle.

Salvation came almost half an hour later in the form of Rukia entering the penthouse and calmly evicting Chappy from the gigai she used before entering it again. However, all present could feel the air temperature drop sharply at her arrival. Something managed to upset the Soul Reaper, and it meant that they were all likely to need extra clothes to ward off the chill that accompanied her.

Uryu looked pensive as he looked at the door that led back to the elevator. He sensed the approach of that fuzzy pressure that had replaced Ichigo's for some time. As it drew closer, he managed to get a scant few details from it. For one, it was most like a Soul Reaper, but held traces of Hollow and even a touch of Quincy in it. How such a mix was possible, he had no clue, but he had a feeling that he would learn soon, as it was now in the elevator, along with whatever or whoever was feeding its spirit energy to the hybrid entity. "Kuchiki-san, what happened out there? What happened to Kurosaki?"

Rukia took a deep, calming breath that allowed some of the warmth to return to the room. "I don't know. He's on the way up now. We can ask him, along with his 'guest,' for details." The slight chill that accompanied the word "guest" made all present turn back towards the door, all thoughts of food banished by nerves. A moment later, the door clicked open, and in stepped Ichigo. He looked even more irritated than Rukia, and less than 4 feet behind him, his "guest" followed.

Tatsuki immediately felt uneasy upon seeing her. The woman was very… dark, for lack of a more descriptive term, yet gave off no malice or anything to indicate ill will as she scanned the room from behind her mask. It obviously wasn't as opaque as it seemed. However, the fact was that she was obviously strong, not to mention too close to Ichigo for her tastes. Uryu was intensely curious, but kept his expression neutral. Now that she was closer, his suspicions were confirmed: Ichigo, whether conscious of it or not, was feeding the woman behind him his spirit energy. However, Ichigo seemed no worse for it, indicating that it was so far just his excess power that he usually let off into the air. Chad said nothing, though he noted that the woman carried herself with an almost unnatural grace. Orihime, being Orihime, reacted as she usually did in these situations. She stood up, bowed and smiled brightly before introducing herself. "Hi there! My name is Orihime Inoue. Who are you?" Only Tatsuki, who had known her the longest, caught the very slight differences in her tone compared to usual. It was obvious to the karate user that Orihime was irritated that another woman had entered into her crush's life, especially since she already seemed close and was extremely beautiful.

Following the cheery girl's lead, the others introduced themselves. "And I am Uryu Ishida."

"My name is Rukia Kuchiki. It's a pleasure," Rukia followed without much emotion.

"Tatsuki Arisawa."

"…Sado Yasutora."

Rider inclined her head in a short acknowledgment. To her, this was highly irregular. Five people already knew of her existence that bore no Servants, and thus could only be assumed to be allies, but was it wise for so many to know about her? If they weren't magi, then they may compromise the entire Holy Grail War. If that happened, then her Master's life and the lives of everyone in this room were forfeit. She was about to speak about this, but Ichigo beat her to it. "She calls herself Rider, though I doubt that's her real name. Before we get started though, could you heal my hand, Inoue? That bastard Lancer nicked it and I can't seem to heal it. I can't tell what's wrong, though."

Uryu only briefly took his eyes off the long-haired woman to state his observations. "Of course you wouldn't notice anything, Kurosaki. There is a foreign spiritual pressure inside the wound that's actively resisting your healing process. Normally it would likely have been drowned out by your usual output, but with all your ambient energy redirected, it can't repulse the wound's taint," he said with a smirk.

"Thanks for the in-depth analysis, Professor Ishida," Ichigo snorted as Orihime looked over his bleeding knuckles. After a moment in a "thinking pose," she nodded to herself, as though agreeing to something inside her own head.

"Not to worry, Kurosaki-kun! This will just take a second!" she beamed before holding her hands out over the wound. Silently, each of her hair clips released two of their six flower petals and transformed into twin arrowhead-shaped forms that floated over Ichigo's hand. The golden light that flowed between them did its work, completely eradicating any sign Ichigo ever encountered Lancer's spear. As they returned to their dormant form, Orihime smiled happily as Ichigo absently rubbed his knuckles, noting that the "Command Mantra" was still there.

"Thanks, Inoue," he said softly.

If anyone could read her thoughts or see behind her mask, the group of empowered souls would have laughed at Rider's awe. Her mind whirled in shock at what she just witnessed. Her experience in her original time lent her some knowledge to the phenomenon the brunette produced on an apparent whim. She could not be certain, but that power went far beyond merely healing the wound. I was almost like…

"Sorcery?" All eyes fixed back on the statuesque woman. She realized that her shock had made the thoughts vocal without her noticing. However, the blank looks she was receiving confused her further. "That ability. It is more than mere healing. Are you able to use True Magic?" she refined her unintentionally voiced question.

Uryu blinked in confusion before adjusting his glasses, catching the light of his laptop and obscuring his eyes behind the white glare. "I assure you, Rider-san, that our abilities are not magic of any kind, though to some it could easily be mistaken for such," he said evenly, more intrigued by the moment.

Ichigo plopped heavily on one of the couches, sighing slightly as he did so. Rider stood behind him, wordlessly assuming a guard's position over her Master as he calmed himself. Once everyone settled into their seats, he addressed them. "Okay, Rider here knows something about what's going on in this town. She mentioned something about a holy war and seems to have been… assigned to me for it. Don't ask; I'm just as confused as you guys are." He then leveled his gaze back at his Servant. "Start talking. What is this war about? And start from the top. We're all in the dark here."

Rider suppressed the urge to twitch at her Master's ignorance. Despite the enormous amount of power he seemed to give her access to without a thought, as well as the abilities of the brunette, he seemed genuinely clueless about the Holy Grail War. On top of that, they claimed to not be magi! Regardless, she had been ordered, and so she would explain without complaint. "Very well. Fuyuki City is periodically the center of a battle between seven magi over a powerful artifact known as the Holy Grail. Each magus is given a Servant, a type of spirit that is to serve as their primary weapon in battle." As she spoke, Uryu folded his hands and leaned on them as he mulled over the information.

"Why's this 'holy grail' thingy such a prize in the first place? Isn't a grail a fancy cup?" Tatsuki asked.

Chad, who had thus far been silent, answered her. "The Holy Grail refers to the cup Jesus Christ drank out of with his apostles the night before he was betrayed by Judas. It is considered the most sought after religious artifact known. The term also often refers to an unreachable or one-of-a-kind discovery that overshadows all others. Which one are we talking about?"

"The Holy Grail is an extremely powerful spiritual artifact. No one knows where it came from, but none can question that it is capable of performing miracles on par with True Magic. As such, any Master and Servant pair who obtains it is able to fulfill any wish he desires, so it is said," Rider answered, drawing pensive looks from the group before her. The implications were terrifying for such a thing to be in anyone's hands.

Rukia focused on Rider and asked the big questions that had been plaguing her for a while now, not that anyone needed to know why she needed to know. "So why Ichigo? Don't you have a say? And how did he summon you?"

Ichigo blinked as he processed the queries, even as Rider answered. "A Servant is summoned via special ritual, usually. Depending on the ritual, we are either called to a Master with similar mental and spiritual qualities to our own, or we are summoned to specific symbols and objects that we are associated with. However, these also assume that another Servant who fits the same class has yet to be summoned. Given the circumstances I was summoned in, it's likely the former. Normally it's impossible for a magus to summon a Servant, but the Holy Grail creates a localized miracle in a manner akin to True Magic that allows us to be called and assists the magus with the summoning."

"Okay, hang on right there. Two things. One: What the heck is this True Magic stuff you keep mentioning? Two: Why is it so hard for a 'magician' to summon you?" Ichigo threw out, more than a little confused.

Rider almost sighed in exasperation at his questions. He really knew nothing about magic at all! Her chances of winning the war were appearing dismal. Although, considering what Ichigo could do on his own, it might not be quite so hopeless… "Magic as it is known is the art of manipulating mana, the force of the planet's life, using it to perform feats outside the laws of science. Most forms of magic are thaumaturgy that can only bend the laws of nature, or work on a limited scope. True Magic is an exceedingly rare power that allows the creation of miracles, either working on an impossible scale or completely bypassing the laws of nature. I have never met a true Sorcerer, but each is said to hold sway over one of these magics, but that is enough to outclass any other practicing magus.

"As for your second question, Servants are summoned in a similar manner as a familiar. Usually, a simple part of the caster's soul is used to replace the soul of an animal. A familiar is always weaker than the magus as a result. It is impossible for a human to channel the mana necessary to form a functioning body and anchor a full soul to it," she noted that Ichigo snorted and muttered something to himself while the short, black-haired girl's eyes gleamed like she knew something. She'd have to ask her Master who this "Urahara" was; her nearly inhuman hearing allowing her to follow his mumblings about the man easily. She continued her explanation, forgoing the tangent. "Servants are the exception. Due to our origins, our abilities outstrip any living human's. The Holy Grail's massive power does the work of reconstructing the called Servant's body and mind from their soul. However, it is up to the magus to do the actual summoning and maintain the Servant with a steady supply of mana. Having a Servant allows a human to have a familiar stronger than themselves."

Uryu nodded before taking over the lecture, his hand at his chin. "I see. From what you have said, mana is similar or perhaps the same as spirit energy. As you have noticed, we all have special abilities to manipulate the spirit energy in and around us. However, our powers behave more like this True Magic you've mentioned, given what you've told us, as none of us worry much about the laws of nature or even life and death."

Now it was Rider's turn to need clarification. "What do you mean?"

"He means that we can all use spirit energy to fight or heal, though we all have different powers, and tend to deal more with the afterlife than anything else," Ichigo said simply, cutting the details out in his impatience as he threw his arms behind the couch. He then scanned the group. "Alright, so we know what these people are, but what about the people who have been disappearing? This town's already lost several people, and even a Soul Reaper was killed."

"Soul Reaper?"

Ichigo sighed. It looked like both sides were equally clueless to the other. "I'll explain later. Why are the Servants killing people?"

"As spiritual beings, we can draw sustenance from other spiritual entities. While the majority of a Servant's power usually comes from their Master and their established contract, we can draw additional power by devouring the souls of others," Rider explained, no emotion reaching her explanation.

The room immediately became a center of highly focused power as all six warriors eyed the Servant warily. If any normal or slightly aware soul were to enter, they would likely be reduced to whimpering children beneath the sheer power the room was filled with. "Do you intend to feed on souls?" Rukia asked, keeping her voice cold enough to freeze alcohol.

"Only if ordered to. I have access to enough of mana from Ichigo for the time being. There is no need to actively seek more," Rider replied with an eerie calm. To her, the act of eating souls was natural, but not necessary nor even particularly pleasant, considering how she could collect mana en masse or in small amounts with minimal harm. She was also honest in her explanation. She had yet to plumb the depths of her connection to her Master's vast well of power, but it definitely sustained her for the moment, and it seemed he could manage that for some time yet. She opted to stay in the good graces of Ichigo's allies.

As one, the six from Karakura let out a collective sigh of relief. If what she said was true, then they had an inside source into this "Holy Grail War" without worrying about committing any more crimes against Fuyuki's souls. After a moment, a little light went off in Ichigo's head. "Oh, one last thing Rider, you said that the Command Mantra here is proof I'm a Master whether I like it or not, but what's it for? It can't just be a fancy tattoo, right?" he asked as he lifted his left hand, showing the red petal shapes that had been emblazoned into his hand earlier that night. Each still gave off a very faint inner light.

"The Command Mantra gives the Master three rights to absolute obedience. Giving any command with the desire for it makes it impossible for the Servant to disobey. Doing so will make one mark vanish. If all are used, the Servant usually leaves, though some may attempt to establish a new contract with another Master if they can linger long enough in this world," Rider responded as Ichigo scowled at the mark, his thoughts swirling over the implications of other Masters having these things. It rendered a fellow sentient soul nothing more than a slave three times. Three times too many, in his opinion.

Rukia pulled out her (in)famous sketchpad and began attempting to capture what she had heard into her own style of interpretation for when she gave her initial report to the Soul Society. Tatsuki pulled out a phone book and mumbled under her breath about delayed dinners and damned ghosts. Chad remained silent, though he seemed to analyze Rider as she remained silent behind Ichigo, who stared at the ceiling. Orihime looked nervous, but said nothing. Uryu pondered the information. While immensely insightful, too many questions remained. What exactly were Servants? Why did the magi need to fight over the Holy Grail? These questions could only be gleaned from Rider, but she had already given them a large amount of information willingly. Besides, from the sound of it, there would likely be more experienced "magi" to speak to about the details once things got underway. They would need to act fast; it was likely that most participants did not have the scruples to refrain from taking souls. Worse yet, if someone like Aizen found out about the power of this "Holy Grail…" he shuddered at the thought.

Tatsuki finally found what she was looking for in the phone book, and called out, "Well, since going out in person was a bit of a bust, I'm gonna have dinner delivered. Sound good?" There were no issues with this, naturally, and within 25 minutes (5 more and it would have been free), the group had spread out several pizzas and sodas on the table, which looked almost too fancy to be sullied by such things. Almost.

As they ate, Ichigo noticed that Rider hadn't tried anything. "Oi, Rider, you want any? There's enough to go around."

"Didn't she say that she feeds on spirits since she's a spirit herself?" Tatsuki grumbled, eyeing the woman suspiciously.

Ichigo rolled his eyes, purposefully ignoring his old friend's apparent distaste with the new woman. "Tell that to every Soul Reaper in the Thirteen Court Guard Squads."

After a moment's hesitation, Rider walked over, an act that was both casual and amazingly graceful, and picked up a piece of pepperoni pizza and looked at it for a moment, profoundly curious. The started with a small bite and chewed thoughtfully. While it might not have been high class fare, it was definitely new and much different from her former diet. The change was pleasant, and she quietly enjoyed another 2 slices after the first was finished.

The heroes lounged after they demolished dinner, already mulling over potential plans. Rider approached her Master, who was now looking over the pale-skinned, dark-haired Ishida's shoulder at a map of the city, as he pointed out where the Servant attack took place. "Ichigo, there is one more thing we need to do before you rest for the night," she said, her beautiful voice once more startling Ichigo from his thoughts with a chill up the spine.

"What?" he replied calmly, his attempts to lock eyes like he did to most people foiled by her blindfold/mask.

"The war has a mediator who needs to be informed that you are a Master. He can further explain any questions you still have. He will be the priest of the local Catholic Church."

"Huh? Ishida?" he turned back to the acknowledged brains of their group.

"One moment," the Quincy said as his fingers flew over the keyboard. A moment later, he leaned aside to show a map of the region in question. "Interesting. I wouldn't imagine that the Catholic Church would take well to the idea of magi," he said absently.

"Stranger things have happened," Ichigo grumbled. "Alright, I'm going out," he called back over the group.

Everyone nodded before Ishida stood up. "I shall accompany you. We can't be sure that your spiritual pressure is unaffected by Rider's presence." Ichigo did not openly object, though he insisted he felt fine.

Soon the three of them passed into a quiet part of town, almost rural, surrounded by trees as the road led them up a hill towards a well-built church. It was obviously well maintained, and the stain glass windows were remarkable in their beauty. Abruptly, Rider said "I'll remain outside. Be careful, there is a malevolent aura to this place."

Uryu stated that he would do the same, turning his back on the church and letting his spiritual awareness expand.

Ichigo eyed the building irritably before he stepped across the threshold between the heavy wooden doors. "Anyone here?" he called out, the cavernous building echoing ominously through the darkness. A moment later, the lights over the central sanctuary lit up, and a tall, imposing, and slightly grim man of indeterminate age dressed all in black save for a white collar and a golden cross around his neck, the priest, appeared from the back rooms.

"Welcome. What can I do for you, young man?" he asked, his deep but hollow voice ringing eerily throughout the large space. "My name is Kirei Kotomine." Ichigo approached warily. He already disliked the man. In his experience, people like him had a tendency to be manipulative.

"Yeah, I'm here about the Holy Grail War thing. Ichigo Kurosaki."

The tall man narrowed his eyes almost imperceptibly at the declaration. "So bold. Very well. I assume you have summoned your Servant? Which class is it?"

"Class? She calls herself Rider."

"I see. You have questions."

"Loads buddy. What do you mean by class? I'm a little new to all this."

The priest frowned at that. "That matters little. Regardless of your circumstances, you are one of the Masters whom the Holy Grail has chosen; the fourth of the seven magi who compete for the Holy Grail itself. You can have any wish once it is within your grasp. Ask your questions," Kirei said calmly, though a tiny note of excitement betrayed him.

"You never did answer my first. What did you mean by Rider's 'class?'" Ichigo was already getting irritated. Why was it so hard to get a straight answer from people in this day and age?

Kotomine's response was to glide, more than walk, to a nearby shelf and retrieve two books, the first of which he cracked open and pulled out a small stack of cards, reminiscent of Tarot. "Each Servant is drawn from the Throne of Heroes, a realm where man has enshrined the gods of their own making. Legendary heroes from across the world reside there, given power based on the beliefs of those who know of them, as well as their own deeds. However, every legend explains what laid them low. As such, their names are carefully guarded by both Master and Servant. Know the name and know their strengths and their weaknesses." He then showed the cards to Ichigo. Each was an image of a stylized warrior with a title written at the bottom. "To protect their identities, Servants are referred to by their classes. These give hints to their origins, but generalize them based on their powers and prowess." He then showed the cards one by one to the almost entranced Ichigo.

'_These guys are supposed to be the souls of dead heroes from the past? Soul Society's not going to like this one bit,'_ he thought sourly.

The first card was of a hooded man with a book in one hand and a staff in the other. "Caster, the magician. Wields magic often lost to modern magi." The second had a man wrapped in black, a knife in his hand and a skull-like visage. "Assassin, master of silent killing."

The third was a beast-headed man screaming in rage, hunched over, madness dancing in its eyes. "Berserker, a weaker soul who traded sanity for immense power." Next was an androgynous figure aiming a drawn bow and arrow. "Archer, knight of the bow. Often gifted with preternatural senses as well as mastery of their weapon."

The next was of a musketeer-like man holding a spear. Ichigo responded to this one, hoping to speed this along. "Lancer. Good with spears and really damn fast."

"As you say." Kotomine smiled slightly before holding up the next card, a fully armored knight with a sword in his gauntleted hands in a warrior's salute. "Then we have Saber. Knight of the sword and considered the most outstanding of all Servant classes. And lastly is your Servant, Rider. Known for being the terrors of the battlefield, with diverse skills." This card depicted a fully armored knight riding a wheeled apparatus like a stylized chariot.

Ichigo's perpetual scowl deepened at the information. _'I'll need to ask who she was. If I'm stuck in this thing, I'm gonna need to get to know her.'_ For the loner in him, it was another complication to him and his _nakama_. For the rest of him, it was a chance to make another potentially invaluable friend and ally.

And the tiniest speck in him liked the idea of getting to know the beauty that was almost literally dropped into his lap.

"I see you are still pensive. If you truly do not wish to fight, you may surrender your Command Mantra and remain here for the remainder of the war, and you will be made to forget the events. As the mediator, it is part of my duties to protect the defeated or Masters without Servants," Kirei stated, misreading the teen's grim expression.

"Heck no! How am I to know what kind of loony would snag the Grail given the chance? Better I stick around and see if any of these magi people deserve it!" Ichigo nearly snarled in response.

"Ah, but are you sure you can handle it? This is a war to be kept as secret as possible. No innocent should be burdened by the knowledge of the world in which we dwell. Witnesses will need to be removed."

To his credit, Ichigo didn't flinch despite knowing full well what the man was getting at. He grumbled lowly, "I get it. I'll try not to blow up any houses." In his mind, he made a note to ask Rukia if she had any Kiokuchikan on her. Better that than following this guy's advice.

"Good. If there is nothing else, you may leave at anytime with the blessing of the Holy Grail. The battle is not officially on until all seven Masters are selected. Until then, try not to cause too much of a stir. I leave you these two gifts to a novice: this," he said as he handed Ichigo the second book, a leather-bound, thin thing with strange glyphs stitched into the cover, "contains a continuously updating source of information about each Servant you have encountered. The more you learn about a Servant's identity and prowess, the more you will find within its pages. For now, it will hold the basic abilities of Rider and any powers she has demonstrated or told you of."

"Handy."

"Indeed. Second, I leave you with some advice: Servants are all powerful combatants, far above mere mortals like ourselves. It is often far easier and safer to dispose of their Masters, rather than face a legend head-on. Without a Master, a Servant will be disqualified from the War and vanish."

"Yeah, I guess so," Ichigo muttered, while his thoughts added somewhat gleefully, _'but I bet they've likely never fought a Soul Reaper or guys like us at our level before.'_ He thanked the priest tersely, the only way he really did to people he didn't know or trust, and stepped out of the building into the chilly February air. "Alright, I'm done. Hey, Rider," he called as he approached his vigilant Servant.

"Yes?"

"Tomorrow, I want to know your real name. It can only help our chances," he said casually. Rider nodded once, but said nothing.

Uryu furrowed his brow as he fell into step behind him. "Do you really intend to join this battle? We could simply stop it."

"How? I don't think magi wear pointy hats in public these days. On top of that, I doubt you like the idea of some nut job or manipulative bastard like Aizen getting their hands on a cup of infinite wishes any more than I do. I say we stick it out and see if we can't stop this whole mess one way or another," Ichigo replied firmly.

"I agree with you on those counts, but what if you win? Your Soul Reaper powers combined with Rider should be a definitive edge, as well as our own help," Uryu argued, ever the voice of logic.

"Hm. Never thought of that. Guess if I do, I'll wish for Aizen and his buddies drained of their spiritual powers then let Rider have a go if she has something good. Anything you want there, Rider?"

The question was rather blunt, surprising the woman from her musings. "…Honestly, I have no real interest in the Grail. I will do my duty to help you, and if I think of something, I'll let you know."

Ichigo shrugged. The only reason he himself had a wish at all was because of the hell the bastard was putting him through and the way he held no value of the lives of his hometown, or anyone but himself, for that matter. "Alright, I guess. Anyway, after that I'll see if I can't destroy it or at least put it out of reach: that much power is too much for one person to have. Besides, if someone's managed to summon King Arthur or Hercules, I'm gonna likely get my ass kicked anyway."

The Quincy archer regarded his friend seriously. "What do you mean by that?"

"The priest there told me Servants are reincarnated legendary heroes from all over the world. They're supercharged by how many people know of them, so guess where that puts the really famous ones?"

"That is definitely a problem. We'll need to plan accordingly," the Quincy held his chin thoughtfully.

"Gets even worse: their identities are all hidden behind their 'classes,' like Rider," Ichigo added, not even looking at his friend and erstwhile rival.

Uryu groaned. "This is getting complicated."

"One thing I should add, Ichigo, is that the Throne of Heroes also holds the souls of anti-heroes, and those whose deeds immortalized them, even if they were not heroic in their legends," Rider suddenly said, her mask facing him.

"Goody," was all he grumbled. The rest of the return trip was uneventful and silent, each lost in their own thoughts. It was only when they returned that things got interesting again.

It started when Ichigo yawned after recounting the new information he gained from the priest, and showing the group the book the priest had given him. It now lay open on the table, giving the detailed stats of Rider, complete with a portrait in the upper-right corner. Her abilities were listed, but were irritatingly vague in places, such as the limits of her "Riding" skill, or what the heck a "Noble Phantasm" was. Rider only said that it was the artifact or weapon that helped forge the hero's legend; their trump card. Whoever she was, she had one hell of a legendary weapon, as her stat sheet placed her power there at "A+" Interestingly, it also already had some basic stats and a skill entry under Lancer's photo. The rest of the book was blank save for headings on each class of Servant. He had also asked Rukia about the Throne of Heroes, but she knew nothing. She made a note to ask the Soul Society about it in her first scheduled report.

Exhausted from the sheer lunacy the day had put him through, Ichigo decided to turn in for the night. He retreated to the room that had been claimed for him, and started getting changed. He was so wiped out that he failed to notice the muffled sounds of his friends shouting something through the thick door. He was down to his boxers when the door opened, much to his surprise. Stepping into the room, as impassive as ever, was Rider. For a handful of awkward seconds, Ichigo stared at the still woman before snatching his pants and donning them at speeds that almost shamed a Shunpo. "What the heck are you doing?!" he roared as he regained his faculties.

Rider did not show any surprise at his tone and replied matter-of-factly. "As your Servant, I must protect you, especially while you sleep. Staying here is the most effective option."

Amusingly enough, both Ichigo and Tatsuki, who had rushed over, shouted "Oh no, it's not!" in unison. The tomboy fighter seemed to appear from behind the taller woman and wrapped one arm around her neck and the other under her arm and proceeded to drag Rider back towards the others, who still milled about the living area, expressions varying from mortified to blatantly confused.

"Thanks, Tatsuki, I owe you one," Ichigo called out before closing the door.

Tatsuki growled slightly as she spun the woman around to face her, glaring her hardest at the eye-shaped seam in the center of Rider's half-mask. "What the hell was that?! Are you completely out of your mind?!" she snarled as she clenched her fists.

Rider rose an eyebrow imperceptibly at the smaller girl. "In case you have forgotten, I am a Servant. It is my duty to protect my Master."

Tatsuki nearly burst into laughter at the deadpan reply. "Him? Need protecting? Lady, if it's one thing I know about Ichigo, it's that for all his stubbornness, he's ridiculously strong."

Rider nodded, but did not move from her position between the girl and Ichigo's room. "I have seen that strength. When he used Astral Projection, his soul was as powerful as a Servant. However, this battle involves many enemies, some can be even stronger."

Tatsuki broke into a grin. "Ha! If he beat one of your Servant buddies with just his normal power, I doubt anyone can even touch him if he went Bankai."

"Bankai?"

Uryu adjusted his glasses. "When he left his body and fought Lancer, what did his sword look like: cleaver or katana?"

The seemingly random subject change startled Rider as she shifted her gaze to the slender teen. "His weapon was a large cleaver blade. If it weren't for the flow of mana from him to me, I would likely have mistaken him for a Saber-class Servant."

This brought bizarrely smug expressions from the veteran warriors, save Chad, who remained neutral. Rukia spoke first. "If you thought he was strong then, you may need to re-evaluate your opinion of a Servant's abilities. Had he used Bankai, he would be ten times stronger and at least that much faster."

Rider focused on the indigo-eyed girl. "Whatever this Bankai you speak of is, it can't be as powerful as you make it sound. He is not a Servant, so it's not a Noble Phantasm."

"Oh, but it is that strong. He is one of only a handful who can use it, and he is among the best even among them," Rukia said, no small hint of pride in her voice.

"If that is so, why does he not use it?"

Rukia sighed theatrically. "Sit down: I have a feeling we'll be up all night bringing you up to speed," she said with a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

Rider nodded and seated herself in the nearest couch's corner, growing more curious by the moment. "It's only fair. If I am to help Ichigo win this war, I am going to need to understand exactly where his power stems from as well as your own abilities."

The petite Soul Reaper picked up a sketchpad that lay open on the coffee table and flipped to the first page, then showed it to Rider who eyed it dubiously. One side of the paper depicted a poorly drawn cartoon… rabbit? The thing was surrounded by hearts with a label of "Whole" under it. The other half showed an equally poorly drawn… bear… thing… that had the label "Hollow." At this, Tatsuki stared with almost the same look of confusion as Rider undoubtedly had behind her mask. "Now, in this world, there are two types of souls. Normal human souls are called Wholes and one of a Soul Reaper's chief duties is to help them pass on to the Soul Society. Our other chief duty is to eliminate Hollows, evil spirits who have lost their hearts to their negative emotions after failing to pass on."

And so it went that Rider was introduced to the basic rundown of the duties and basic powers of Soul Reapers and of their enemies, the Hollows. The actual organization of the Soul Society was left for another day, as was the magnitude of the events that had transpired in The Seireitei and in Hueco Mundo over the past 6 months. Even with those parts trimmed for expediency, the entire explanation took well over an hour, especially while trying to explain how a zanpakutou was different from a familiar. Apparently, the idea of an autonomous soul forming into a sword with powers akin to a Noble Phantasm was a bit peculiar for magi and those that associated most commonly with them. Sentient blades weren't unheard of to the lavender-haired woman, but the idea of hundreds of such blades being linked to a single organization of warriors was bizarre.

It was now close to midnight, and everyone save Tatsuki, Rider and Rukia had gone to bed. Tatsuki was on the verge of crashing on the couch anyway, but flatly refused to sleep until she was _sure_ Rider wasn't about to slip back into Ichigo's room.

For her part, Rider didn't have the heart to tell the stubborn tomboy that Servants did not require sleep at all, though it saved energy.

"Any questions?" Rukia finally asked after explaining the power of a Soul Reaper's zanpakutou.

Rider nodded. "Two, actually. One: do you have any proof of your story, and two: have you ever considered taking drawing classes?"

A large tick mark appeared above the small girl's brow and she wordlessly brought two fingers up and swiped them in the air "Bakudo Number 1: Sai!" she intoned in the same way she did to punish Ichigo when they first met. Unfortunately, this attempt at the spell met a slightly different fate. Unlike Ichigo, the spell simply parted against Rider, causing slightly visible purple sparks to appear around her that flowed away from her body like water breaking against a rock. No one noticed the open book on the table add "Magic Resistance: B" to Rider's entry.

"Small spells cannot affect me," Rider explained casually. "However, I did not intend to provoke you, so let us call it a night."

"Fine," Rukia said with a slight pout.

"About time," Tatsuki muttered after stifling another yawn. She stood up, but stopped and focused on Rider.

"Yes?"

"Well, aren't you going to bed?"

"Where?"

Tatsuki sighed, unable to counter the sensible query as harshly as she'd like. "Guess you can bunk in my room. It's got a spare bed and _someone's_ gotta make sure you don't 'sleepwalk' into Ichigo's room."

Rider rolled her eyes behind her mask. _'A little paranoid, aren't we?' _she thought before a wicked grin appeared in her mind. She allowed herself to linger just a little next to Ichigo's room, and was rewarded with the tomboy rounding on her and yanking her by the hand towards their shared room. "So forward…" she said just loudly enough to catch Tatsuki's ears.

The girl stopped cold and slowly turned to regard the way she was gripping the woman's hand. She immediately let go as if her hand were burned by Ryuujin Jakka's flames. "Gah! Get your mind out of the gutter!"

"And what about yours? Did you think I intended to ravish my Master when we were alone?" she asked, letting her voice drop ever so slightly, giving it a powerful seductive quality. "I could have, you know. All he would have to do is ask. I'd have been more than happy to…"

"Shut up!" the tomboy growled, straining to keep her voice down as she started pushing the taller woman into their shared room. When she clicked the door shut gently, she finally exploded. "Damn it! This is what I was afraid of! This whole Master/Servant crap sounded fishy from the start, then you go and talk like that! You're sick!"

Surprisingly, the purple haired woman lifted her hand to her mouth and started laughing. It wasn't loud by any means, and it carried a light, feathery feeling that did wonders for most people's tension. Confused, Tatsuki almost snarled, "What's so funny?"

"Your reaction. One would think no one had ever played a joke on you before. I wonder if this is how my sisters felt when they teased me," Rider replied almost wistfully.

Completely gobsmacked, Tatsuki froze. The freaky, blindfolded, barely-decent, silent woman who followed Ichigo around like a robot bodyguard had a sense of humor? She could barely conceal her shock at the revelation, but settled with an indignant huff. "Correction; you are both sick _and_ messed up in the head…"

Rider sat on her bed and shifted back to a more serious expression. "However, I was not lying when I said it is my duty to protect Ichigo. Regardless of why, it is very dangerous to leave him unprotected."

Tatsuki grabbed some lounge pants and a loose, long-sleeved shirt to sleep in and replied, "Hey, relax. We're in the penthouse of one of the tallest buildings in the city! Even if something tries to come up here, it will give itself away long before it gets close to Ichigo. Rukia, Uryu, and Orihime are great at sensing spiritual pressure. We'd notice if anything tried to fly up here." She spoke with absolute confidence, so Rider decided to shatter a few illusions before she went to sleep.

"It's rarely that simple." Once Tatsuki turned to face her, Rider leaped straight up to the ceiling, inverting herself so that her feet were against it, and stayed there. "Some classes of Servant can do this, and the others are perfectly capable of scaling walls at high speed. Worse, there is one class that could come up here and kill all of us in a matter of minutes if our guard drops. The Assassin class is capable of erasing its presence from the minds of those around it, and merely needs to slit out throats. As a Servant, I can sense him very slightly, but only if he is near me," she explained as she let herself fall gracefully back onto her bed with barely a sound.

Tatsuki shook her head. "You made your point, but we do have a few tricks of our own. Try not to worry yourself so much. It's bad for your skin," she said through a lopsided grin.

Rider smiled at the tomboy. "I suppose I'll have to trust those 'tricks' for the moment. I apologize for my earlier behavior."

"Whatever. Sleep now, talk later," Tatsuki grunted as she retreated to the bathroom to change and wash up some. Rider lay on her own bed, staring at the ceiling, not that anyone could tell through the Breaker Gorgon. Her Master and his companions were all very strange, but definitely had great power and skills foreign to her. While she may not have had any interest in the Holy Grail, she had sworn an oath to help Ichigo, and so she would, regardless of how strange his life seemed. Finally, feeling her Master's relaxed mind and spirit through the Command Mantra, she allowed herself to sink into a peaceful sleep.

* * *

Comments? Questions?


	4. Stray Hound: Part I

AN: Phew! That took longer than I hoped! First, thanks to all of you who favorited and reviewed my first work. I appreciate any constructive criticism you guys have. This chapter introduces the first major deviation from canon, so be warned things might start twisting away from the norm…

Several people have asked what route this story will follow: I honestly don't know. With the intro of the Bleach cast, this more than likely will be an amalgamation of all the routes with a touch more Heaven's Feel.

_Stray Hound (Part I)_

_It was strange, being an incarnation of man's collective wishes: you simply started existing where nothing existed before, fully aware and capable of understanding. The people had longed for something, some_one_ to believe in that lacked the petty arguments, grudges and contempt of the gods atop the mountain. Putting up with their disputes and the resulting chaos that was reflected in the mortal world was draining on even the most pious of souls. Thus, these desires pooled over generations, building on each other until at last, awareness exploded into being, and three new gods were born. Though lacking in terms of power compared to the original gods, it mattered little: the people loved them. They were perfect in form and willing to place the needs of their worshippers first._

_Despite the desires that birthed them, things started a slow decline as the years passed. As though the wishes of man were unable to create another true goddess like the other two, the last was cursed with mortality and thus was fated to grow older, albeit far slower than a human. The people who once loved them began looking upon them with suspicion, and the old gods began taking an interest in them all._

_And all that could be done about it was wonder from behind a blindfold._

______________

Ichigo woke up in a mild state of confusion. His dream lingered barely at the edge of his consciousness, but something about it filled him with a strong desire to call and check up on his sisters and make sure they were okay. Dismissing the odd urge, he sat up and stretched. There was no two ways about it: the bed was too comfortable for its own good. No wonder the people who rented these places tended to be lazy slobs. Ichigo grabbed his bag (no point in unloading it if you organized your stuff and only planned to stay for a little bit, he reasoned) and pulled out a set of fresh clothes. He opted for slim fit dark blue jeans, a white long-sleeve shirt with a red stripe down the middle, and would top it with a gray jacket. He took these and a set of boxers and socks into the private bathroom. He was glad he got the master bedroom, seeing as he was the first to go to bed last night.

After a good hot shower, Ichigo stepped out, fully dressed and awake. He looked at the Command Mantra on his hand dully, noting the very faint glow that it still gave off, before considering breakfast. Maybe there was a grocery store nearby to grab some cereal, or a decent breakfast cafe. He'd have to be careful not to buy too much, lest Orihime get a chance to cook. However, he would need to wait at least until the majority of his friends were up and about. Like hell he was wandering about alone again and drawing all the trouble the three worlds had to offer! He plopped onto the nearest couch and turned on the TV, flipping to the local news. His mood soured as he heard of another "gas leak" that had hospitalized an entire family in their sleep. "Tch. Damn those mage bastards," he growled lowly.

He was soon joined by a silent Rider, who took up a position just behind his left shoulder: a perfect guard position. The simple act made Ichigo twitch slightly. Servant or no, this was getting ridiculous. "You know, I can defend myself. You don't have to stand at attention like a samurai all the time. Sit down and loosen up a little," he said gently, trying not to sound off-putting or ungrateful.

Thankfully, Rider didn't seem offended and gracefully sat down beside him. "I was told about the basics of Soul Reapers last night. However, I have a question."

"Sure."

"Are you a spirit, inhabiting a false body like Rukia Kuchiki?"

Ichigo snorted. "Nah, I'm still alive and using my real body. I just had… an interesting introduction to the whole thing."

Rider remained silent, waiting for him to continue. When it became clear he wasn't, she moved on. "Why did you come here, if not for the Holy Grail War?"

Ichigo pointed to the TV. "That. Soul Society got nervous about all the deaths and the power behind the fire during the last war, and sent us to look into it when they suspected things were starting up again."

"I see. You really came with no desire for the Grail," she confirmed again.

"Never even knew something like this existed until yesterday."

Rider quietly mulled over this. Something wasn't adding up. Why would a person with no knowledge of the Grail, or even the most basic of magics be selected as a Master? Sure he had power, that much was blatantly obvious by how much of his 'spirit energy' he bled out for her to use, but still… she cut her musings short and banished her worries. Ichigo had agreed to participate in the war, and so she would do everything in her power to assist him, as was her duty. She glanced in the direction of the hallway as the gentle giant, Chad, quietly joined them.

"Morning," Ichigo called to his friend.

"Morning, Ichigo" he rumbled blearily in return. The tall young man meandered over to the kitchen and absently noted, "We need food."

"Yeah. When everyone's up and moving, we'll grab breakfast and stock up."

The half-Mexican giant grunted in understanding and sat at the table. "Rider, do you have any changes of clothes?" he asked smoothly, taking note of her rather… exotic outfit.

Rider turned towards Ichigo, who coughed slightly and nodded. "I don't think that exactly fits under 'public attire.'" The recent events of his ridiculously convoluted life had managed to teach him to stay focused in even the most unusual circumstances, but he still had trouble with beautiful women from time to time. He had managed to keep his focus on the absurdity of the situation last night, but today, with no pressing matters to discuss with her at the moment that he could recall, he found it hard not to blush with Rider's choice of clothing. At least she wasn't as bad as Rangiku…

Nodding, she simply allowed herself to be wrapped in a burst of purple magical energy that obscured her form. The light faded a moment later, revealing a more conservative outfit. Instead of her strapless dress, a black turtleneck sweater and dark blue jeans covered her shapely body. Her boots were replaced with simple brown casual shoes, and a black ribbon had manifested, tying back her long hair at around her mid-thigh level save for a few stray locks that framed her face. The most obvious and, to Ichigo, most stunning change was the disappearance of her mask and the loss of the red rune on her forehead, finally revealing her lavender eyes. These were only slightly obscured by a pair of reading glasses that sat across her nose lightly in place of her mask. The only oddity aside from her hair color was the shape of her pupils, which looked square, but it was a subtle thing that would not likely be noticed by casual passers-by. "Will this do?" she asked.

Nodding his head slightly in earnest approval, Ichigo gave her a once over. "Much better, thanks." For the time being, at least she now looked reasonably normal, if you consider purple hair that long normal. _'Then again, my hair is bright orange,'_ he thought wryly.

With everyone in the penthouse slowly trickling into the living room, the group approved of the idea of breakfast, as well as Rider's new outfit. "Now if you came in dressed like _that_, I wouldn't have been so jumpy!" Tatsuki had said after seeing her new clothes. The group departed the penthouse shortly afterward, stomachs rumbling. Ideally, they wanted to eat somewhere with some privacy. If another magus was nearby, it would be frustrating to have them overhear their plans. Thankfully, they just looked like a pack of high school kids out for a social morning, not super-powered souls capable of leveling the town to its foundations.

They were quite a sight to the early morning crowd: a bronze-skinned behemoth, two tall youths with bright, chromatic hair, a pale scholarly type, an obvious tomboy, a shapely young woman, and a short, indigo-eyed young lady who carried herself almost like a noble. The seven of them eventually happened upon a café that suited their immediate needs. It was quiet, out of the way and served a pleasant variety, with an open air patio on the second floor. No one was up there at the moment according to the resident specialist in soul detection, Ishida. It didn't take long for them to sit in the brisk morning air, nursing warm drinks up there.

Taking a sip of black coffee, Uryu started things calmly. "So now that Ichigo is officially entered into this battle, we need to do some strategizing. It's obvious that we're going to be setting up a nightly patrol for now, but this battle does not have any restrictions on when and where to fight."

"I wouldn't get too worried about that at the moment. From what the priest said, magi are a secretive bunch. They won't get too violent at least until the seven Masters all check in," Ichigo explained while warming his hands around his cup.

Tatsuki threw in her two cents. "What about last night then? Your attacker didn't exactly care about any of that."

"Lancer was apparently following orders from his Master, but even then he made sure to attack in an area with no witnesses," Rider explained as she sipped her tea slowly.

That relaxed the group a hair. So far, it looked like only Lancer and his Master were going to be the problem. Struck with a thought, Ichigo grew pensive. "What sucks is that I think I ran into Lancer's Master and didn't notice anything. Just before Lancer attacked, I met a guy named Gil," he described the enigmatic blonde, recalling his parting words perfectly.

"It does seem odd he'd clue you in then disappear at the same time Lancer appeared," Rukia mused. "However, he could be another Master, or even a Servant, since Rider can easily conceal herself like this. It wouldn't surprise me if the others could do the same."

"She's right," Rider conceded without looking. "While the likelihood of him being a Master is high, it could have been part of an alliance. They might be splitting the souls they harvest."

"It seems that our advantage of numbers won't be so decisive after all," Ishida sighed. "If we start picking off magi as a team, we will likely force the other Masters to rally against us, and that could cause this battle to drag on far longer than necessary with far higher risks for all involved."

Having taken a swig of his coffee, Chad finally spoke. "We should use our numbers while we can, then."

All were in agreement on that point. "First things first: we need to scout out the city for possible battlegrounds. That way, we can arrange our battles away from innocent bystanders. According to the rules of this thing, no one outside of the magi are supposed to know about any of this, so we'll need to watch our step more than usual. Even if they can't see me or Rukia, they can still see Servants and the aftermath of our fights," Ichigo explained.

Rukia smiled. "Good thing I brought my Kiokuchikan with me, then. It won't last forever, but it should buy us some time. We'll split up into teams for safety. A sensory specialist should accompany a fighter to discourage trouble. The teams can scout out the city in three directions. Potential battle sites, important landmarks and references, and any sources of significant spiritual pressure, since they will be targeted by Servants first."

"Sounds good. So who's going with who?" Tatsuki asked.

"Seven people, three teams… Sensory specialists include Inoue, Ishida and me," Rukia sorted out her thoughts to the group. "That just leaves the fighters. Due to the inherent risk, the odd man out should accompany Inoue." It was an understandable decision: too many people and spirits would jump at the chance to kidnap the girl, what with her god-like power to reshape fate and all.

Rider broke her from her musings. "Ichigo and I could theoretically form a single team. While I lack the ability to remotely sense other Servants at a distance other than a vague feeling and seeing them while they are astralized, the Command Mantra has the ability to inform the bearer of any nearby. If a magus is going about their daily life, they will do so with the Servant in tow for protection. If a Servant is alone, it can easily be tracked and cornered."

"And what would your role be?" Rukia inquired suspiciously.

"His Servant." she replied blankly, like it was the dumbest question she had ever heard. "If I'm with him, it won't be necessary to use a Command Spell to call me to his side. Even if Ichigo is powerful, since he is marked as the Master any alliances that form will target him or me first. Staying together provides the best mutual protection." With no logical arguments to counter her assessment aside from their own insecurities about her, the other six souls reluctantly agreed to the pairing. If Rider tried anything, one Getsuga Tenshou would be sufficient to settle the matter. Ironically, this also made the decision-making process much smoother, as Ichigo was the person just about everyone wanted to be partnered with. Inoue wanted to for obvious personal reasons, Rukia due to being comfortable with him and having the most experience working side-by-side, and Ishida because their fighting styles complimented each other.

It was decided that Rukia would have the burly Chad as support, while Orihime would travel with Tatsuki and Ishida. However, before anything was done to further their knowledge of the battleground, they needed to stock the kitchen. Paying for their meal with their shiny new unlimited credit cards, the teens plus two (Rider was an unknown and Rukia over a century old) meandered into the city in search of groceries.

The store they found was pretty small, but had enough for them to stock up for several days with plenty of variety. While most of the items on their impromptu list were essentials like milk, rice, meat, and vegetables, each member of the _nakama_ made minor detours to add their own contributions to the rapidly filling cart.

While Ichigo inspected the fresh produce, he felt an unusual, subtle, but very powerful spiritual pressure nearby that tingled in the back of his senses. As he pretended to inspect a few tomatoes, he noted that the source of the power was getting closer.

It was… different from any he had sensed before. While the actual amount of spiritual power present in the soul was immense, it felt… wrong; warped and twisted from what it should be. Placing the tomatoes back on the display, he moved closer to the source, leaning over some oranges. The soul had some sort of active conversion going on. Part of her spiritual pressure felt natural, gentle and soothing, but this was being drowned out by a gritty, almost Hollow-like force that loomed heavily over him like the weight of ages. Lifting his head surreptitiously, Ichigo finally found the source and it was nothing like what he was expecting.

The girl with the massive spiritual pressure looked utterly harmless, with dark purple, almost blue hair that was pulled up on her left side by a red ribbon. Her smile was sweet and happy as she perused the vegetables with her deep blue eyes while humming a soft tune to herself. The teen's outfit consisted of a pink button-up blouse with only the second button closed over a plain white shirt. Her calf-length skirt was a muted khaki color, almost white. She was slender and fit, her figure developing into quite the beautiful woman. Unlike Aizen, whose unassuming spiritual pressure concealed a manipulative, cold personality, this girl had the opposite vibe going: malevolent spiritual power with a warm, gentle demeanor that practically radiated off of her. In a way, it reminded him of Nel back in Hueco Mundo.

The Soul Reaper attempted to memorize the feel of the girl's spiritual pressure before moving on. It wasn't hard to do so with the distinct conversion it was going through. She might be a potential Master, but his Command Mantra wasn't acting up in any discernible fashion. Still, she may end up becoming important later on.

Finishing their shopping, Ichigo made it a point to report his findings to the others once they met up again. "You feel that, guys?"

The Quincy smirked. "Who do you think I am? You? Of course I sensed the spiritual pressure saturating the area. It is subtle, but very dense."

"No kidding. The source is a girl about our age, maybe a little younger. About 5 feet tall, blue eyes, dark hair done up on the left with a red ribbon. Doesn't exactly look very threatening, but then again, neither did Aizen."

"Right. It would be wise to not underestimate this girl." Rukia added as she glanced towards the source of the dark aura. While she couldn't see the girl in question, she could sense the figure distinctly enough without Ichigo's normal torrent of energy blunting her senses.

Then again, if it wasn't for said torrent of energy, they might never have met and things could have turned out _much_ differently for the both of them.

Such thoughts were driven out of the forefront of her mind when Rider added "I don't sense any Servants here. If she is a magus, the Grail hasn't chosen her as a Master."

"Let's hope it doesn't. If her Servant shares a link like ours, it'll be a disaster." Such corruption passing into a legendary hero was a disconcerting thought. The image of Musashi Miyamoto as a Saber-class cackling like his Inner Hollow amidst a field of blood was a disturbing one, indeed.

"That's unlikely. Most magi do not normally give off mana or 'spirit energy' unless actively preparing a spell or ritual and even then, most magi can't continuously give off the level required to maintain a Servant in the same manner you do," Rider explained quietly.

A sigh of relief passed through the group as they wheeled the cart up to the register. The clerk looked them over, visibly startled by the mix, as well as the colors of Ichigo and Rider's hair. Seriously: purple and orange? And who would have the patience to dye and maintain hair that long? Still, she did her job without complaint. It wasn't like they were stirring up trouble or anything. Having paid for everything, the seven companions departed back to the hotel with their bags of food.

While they were putting the various items away, Rider couldn't repress a small smile while she sorted the bag of goods she was working on: 4 cans of red bean paste, 2 tubs of butter, 6 kinds of cheeses, and 3 loaves of bread. While none of them stood out as unusual aside from the sheer variety of cheese, the dreamy smile Orihime was giving the food as she placed them in the fridge was downright comical. "Hungry again already, Inoue-san?"

The busty girl broke out of her daze like she had been caught sleeping in class, sheepishly rubbing the back of her head with a giggle. "Well, breakfast was a little light…"

Tatsuki sighed with an amused grin. "I swear, Orihime-chan, you could out-eat Chad any day of the week!"

The brunette gave her friend a mock-glare. "Hey! I don't eat that much!"

"Says the girl who eats a whole loaf of bread with a whole can of sweet bean paste for lunch practically every day at school," Tatsuki countered.

Orihime stuck out her tongue and giggled again before diving back into her own bag to finish stocking the kitchen. Soon, the cabinets were filled with cans of various soups, a few bags of rice, chips, a dozen or so spices, some sauces and other such odds and ends. The fridge was now fully loaded with everything the group needed to hole up in the penthouse for a few days straight if need be. All in all, the group was settling in nicely.

Rukia and Ichigo decided to forgo leaving their bodies in the room until after sunset. If magi could see spirits, they would likely start picking fights with their Soul Reaper forms in the middle of the day under the assumption that they were Servants or agents of other magi. They simply weren't willing to risk an amoral bastard causing collateral damage in order to have an excuse to extract souls. For now, the group would have lunch here and then go on a tour of the city in their respective teams. No use tipping off wandering magi on the scale of their alliance.

With a couple of hours to kill before then, each member sought their own means of personal amusement. Tatsuki went out onto the large balcony and began going through her katas, including some basic exercises Yoruichi had taught her to start Hakuda. Chad was listening to his MP3 player through his very large headphones. Orihime took the time to jot down some recipes, daydreaming every few minutes. Rukia was looking over the city, a look of wonder and contentment making its way to her face. Uryu was holed up in his room, likely sewing. Ichigo was channel surfing and Rider sat next to him, her gaze as vigilant as always. With her so still and calm, Ichigo's mood soured a little. She may be a Servant, but geez… "Oi, Rider."

The woman turned her lavender gaze to him. "Yes?"

For a second, Ichigo swore he saw a reddish glow from within her pupils, but dismissed it as a trick of the light or just a Servant thing. "We're not going anywhere for a while, so why don't you do something to relax a little? Got any hobbies?"

Rider didn't show it, but she was more than a little pleased that her Master was so considerate, even if it was technically unnecessary. "I like to read, if there is something you or your friends have to share."

The Vizard shrugged. "Ever heard of Shakespeare?"

Rider brushed back some of her long hair behind her shoulder before replying. "I haven't."

Shaking his head at the idea of someone NOT knowing of the master playwright, Ichigo meandered to his room and rifled through his bag, eventually coming to the side pocket. "Where did I put those?" he grumbled before unzipping the pocket, and was greeted with the sight of a wad of… brownish gold? The wad wiggled a little and then popped out of the bag with a loud gasp, revealing a very familiar stuffed lion. Ichigo was understandably blindsided by the development. "Kon?! What the hell are you doing here?!"

The animated lion plushy took several more deep, haggard breaths before turning and giving the teen an angry glare; it was actually quite amusing to see that look on a plush toy's face. "What do you think, you moron? I ain't being left behind this time while Orihime and Rukia-neesan run off again! Don't think for even one second I'm gonna let you hog all the glory being the hero this time!"

Ichigo wearily rubbed his eyes. "Kon, did it ever occur to you that this wouldn't be fun and games? Besides, Yuzu's probably going crazy worrying over where 'Bostov' went," he offered the mod soul as much patience as he could muster, though the last comment was delivered with an almost sadistic smirk.

The lion crossed his puffy arms and turned his head, still miffed. "Feh! I don't even have your body to make up for my pain of dealing with your sister while you're off saving the world! No way am I going back! "

"Too bad! I'm serious: this is way too dangerous for you! If I have to, I'm mailing you back home before the others notice you!"

"Ha! Like you'd go through the trouble of explaining how I got in your bag in the first place! You know that I can protect your body in a crisis way better than that badge of yours!"

"Not to mention hit on every girl you come across while joyriding in it…" Ichigo muttered under his breath. It was then he noticed that Kon was facing the doorway, a familiar, almost hungry look on his face. Ichigo lifted an eyebrow and followed his gaze to see Rider, still in her public outfit giving the mod soul a quizzical look.

Kon's perverted nature kicked in as he looked Rider over from head to toe and came to one unequivocal conclusion: the woman was SMOKING HOT! "Where have you been all my life, oh goddess of beauty?!" he howled in joy as he jumped straight from the floor towards Rider's ample bosom.

She winced slightly at the sailing plushy, not that Ichigo could blame her for reacting at being accosted by a perverted stuffed lion. The instant Kon entered range Rider's long leg lashed out and drove the heel of her shoe into his sun-shaped face before stomping it to the ground. "What is this?" she finally asked while Kon flailed unintelligently from beneath her foot.

"A stowaway. Name's Kon, a mod soul that I sometimes have to use when I leave my body. He's literally a pill that can animate lifeless bodies."

It was somewhat amusing to see her look down at the still struggling toy with such interest, surprise evident. "Is that so? How?"

"Soul Reaper thing. Rukia has one too, though hers…" he shuddered at the memory of the hyperactive rabbit soul that Rukia loved.

Rider picked up the stuffed plushy and held the lion at arm's length, giving it a critical gaze. "Is he always like this?" she asked while Kon struggled to come into "close contact" with the woman's shapely form.

"Yeah, you can see why I'm reluctant to let him near my body these days. If he ever bugs you, feel free to kick him around. He's resilient."

"That's cruel, Ichigo!" Kon whined.

Rider gave Kon a sly smile. "I'll keep that in mind." Kon had a sense of impending doom briefly hit him at the look she sported while Ichigo suddenly felt rather glad that Rider was on _his_ side at the moment. That smile she just used sent unpleasant chills down his spine. Tossing the toy over her shoulder and subsequently into the hallway, Rider's expression relaxed back into neutrality. That neutrality vanished as she could practically _feel_ Kon's eyes boring into her backside. She had a feeling he was disappointed that her long hair blocked his view. Turning to face the lecherous lion, she was about to send him bouncing around like a pinball, when a new voice cut in.

"Kon?"

Said mod soul perked and turned to see Rukia, whose confused look dropped into one of exasperation. "NEESAN!" he practically cried while bounding towards the petite Soul Reaper. Rider found great satisfaction at watching the plushy's pounce halted by Rukia's lifted leg, and even greater satisfaction when the girl brought her foot down and pinned Kon's head to the floor.

"Hello, Kon," she drawled. With her arms crossed, she waited for Ichigo to step out of his room. A moment later, he came out, a trio of books tucked under his arm. "Explain," she deadpanned, the temperature dropping a little.

Ichigo sighed. "He hid himself in my bag and popped out when I was looking for these," he casually lifted the books.

Rider took note that Kon wasn't really struggling to get out from Rukia's foot, and felt a brief surge of righteous anger: Rukia's smaller foot did not completely cover the toy's eyes, giving him a clear view up her sundress. "Kuchiki-san, are you comfortable with him there?" she asked as she pointed the peeper out.

Rukia glanced down, and scowled when she followed his one exposed eye's gaze. She understandably proceeded to stomp the stuffing out of the animal with characteristic vigor. "Didn't you learn anything from the last time?" she growled amidst Kon's pained wails.

Ichigo smirked in amusement at the sight before turning back to Rider. "Found 'em. Try this one first: It's one of his most famous works," Ichigo said, handing her a somewhat worn copy of "Hamlet." Still tucked under his arm were his copies of "A Midsummer Night's Dream" and "Romeo and Juliet." He figured he'd burn some of his time re-reading them. It wasn't like he could spar with anyone without leveling the place and his badge hadn't detected a Hollow yet. It was weird being out of town without his overenthusiastic father embarrassing the hell out of him to keep him occupied. Oh well, he wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth usually, so he returned to the living room, plopped down on the couch and cracked open "A Midsummer Night's Dream."

Rider also sat down, completely immersing herself into the play within a few minutes. However, she proved very aware of her surroundings, decking Kon in the face when he attempted to sneak up on her without even looking up from her book.

Between the two of them reading and their odd hair colors, Rider and Ichigo could have likely passed for relatives at the moment.

Kon's appearance earned mix responses. Orihime almost pointedly ignored the little toy, though not out of spite: she was simply too lost in her own little world at the moment to notice at all. Tatsuki took care of that, though. The moment Kon started to move in her friend's direction, Tatsuki, as though driven by some greater power, came inside and booted the toy off course, sending it screaming towards Chad, who caught it and took a moment to silently analyze the now nervous toy.

This proved to be the most favorable result, actually. Chad's hidden love of cute things made him decide to spare the toy its suffering. "I'll keep him out of trouble," he finally said as he tucked the toy under his arm before leaning back to enjoy his music.

Kon's response to this was predictable. "NOOO! NOT AGAIN! I'm so close! So close to heaven!" he wailed while struggling futilely against the half-Mexican's iron grip.

"What the hell was that thing?" Tatsuki growled, only partially satisfied with the animal's woe.

Rukia shrugged. "That's Kon, our resident mod soul. You remember when Ichigo mentioned that he got his powers in the spring? Well if you think back to then, you should recall when Ichigo started acting strange for a day. Like REALLY strange. You trashed the classroom that day because of that. He's the reason," she partially explained, preferring to let the tomboy figure it out on her own.

Tatsuki stared blankly at her shorter friend. The memories of back then were still somewhat hazy from the time she had her memories wiped. After a moment of concentration, realization dawned.

Now while Tatsuki lacked the raw power of any of her friends, she did have the ability to shift her spiritual energy to parts of her body, reinforcing them to withstand damage and increase her strength in that area. As a result, she could focus up to what amounted to the totality of her power into a single strike. It would leave her drained and unconscious, but for one blow, she could hit almost as hard as Chad's _La Muerte_ technique.

Naturally, seeing her clenched fist glowing with a dark blue energy set off warning bells in everyone's minds. "So HE'S the one who hijacked Ichigo's body, eh? Oh, he's had this coming for a LONG time!" she said, murder dancing in her dark eyes. She started stomping over towards the terrified plushy, who suddenly felt that Chad was his best friend.

Chad was torn. He already knew that Tatsuki was a more skilled fighter than him, even if he was far stronger, and an _angry_ Tatsuki was a bona fide terror. But Kon was harmless in his current state, not to mention already being punished for his admittedly lecherous behavior. Grunting, he made up his mind. "Calm down. He's locked in a stuffed animal and harmless. Even if you did beat him around, he wouldn't be too badly hurt."

Kon felt that the bronze-skinned titan was trying to be a savior despite the obvious jab at his current form, as his logic effectively reduced Tatsuki's rage to a more acceptable level which dissipated the angry crackling around her hand. Kon was safe from having his head obliterated… for the moment. No sooner had he released a relieved sigh that he found himself yanked harshly to the spitfire's eye level. "You are SO lucky that Chad's willing to stick up for you. But if I catch you ogling Orihime-chan or anyone else, I'll pull your stuffing out through your mouth and pitch you into the nearest river! Are we clear?" she snarled.

Kon gulped. Deciding to figure out a way around it later, he managed to squeak out a "Yes ma'am."

"Good. I'm glad we reached this understanding," Tatsuki replied lightly with a smile before dropping him. With that, she headed to the kitchen to make herself lunch and get a drink. Hakuda was a lot more strenuous to learn than normal human martial arts, since it combined aspects from countless styles into a cohesive whole designed to efficiently and quickly dispatch a target in dozens of ways. She had to fight with her prior training to keep from slipping back into karate. It so far was proving to be close to impossible without Yoruichi-sensei's "sparring sessions" i.e. getting pummeled by a true master of the art to demonstrate its finer points. She still had a long way to go, but it made her feel good to know that she was getting stronger.

After everyone had lunch, the unofficial rapid response team split into their respective teams and departed the hotel in ten minute intervals. Inoue's group headed to the north, crossing the river that sliced Fuyuki into its two halves. The western side of the water led into the residential district known as Miyama.

Chad and Rukia moved towards the western half of Shinto, the urban center of city, doing their damnedest to remain innocuous. In hindsight, the pair wasn't exactly suited for this: they couldn't be more different from each other in terms of appearance and bearing. The fact that they seemed to be touring the city together made it seem even stranger to passersby.

Ichigo and Rider moved deeper into Shinto, heading southeast which, according to Uryu, led to the place where the fire had wreaked havoc ten years ago. He took note that the place seemed almost exclusively modern: the buildings were all tall structures with the newest architecture and were all heavily modernized. It was actually quite odd. The entire district felt like it was rushed, slapped together as quickly as possible with an overwhelming air of newness. There wasn't a single historical landmark, or any simple houses: condos and apartment complexes provided homes, with all of the more typical houses standing across the river in the Miyama half of the city. As the Master and Servant pair meandered through the streets, Ichigo focused his meager spiritual awareness outward and frowned.

"Is something wrong?" the normally silent woman beside him asked.

Ichigo scratched his head before leading her to a large, open field dotted with leafless trees, still in the thrall of winter. While meandering along its edge, he found a sign. "Fuyuki Memorial Park," he muttered before peering into the well-kept grounds. The grounds had recovered well from the fire a decade ago, though in the dead of winter it was hard to tell. No snow had fallen in Fuyuki recently, leaving the dry grass exposed which added to the barren feeling of the open space. "'In memory of the lives lost in the Fuyuki fire…'" he glanced down at the staggering rows of names on the large plaque. Hundreds had been lost, their names painstakingly carved into the plaque in solemn dedication. Ichigo was understandably disgusted with the amount of life lost to this event.

From the looks of things, though, the Soul Reaper on duty had done his job admirably, as there were no ghosts in the area according to his spiritually attuned eyes. That did not stop the pervasive aura of despair that had been left behind in their passing.

"This place holds countless grudges," Rider murmured with a hint of sadness reaching her even tone.

Ichigo was hardly surprised by his Servant's awareness, nodding his head at her assessment. "Yeah. These people all died suddenly, and those that didn't suffered before they were sent to pass on."

Rider nodded in agreement. As a spirit, she was sensitive to these feelings and the impressions they left on people. It was no wonder there were no children playing in an otherwise pleasant park. The place was littered with painful feelings that scratched at everyone who came near. Those without proper understanding or awareness would likely be caught in the maelstrom of negativity before long. While not particularly dangerous, these emotions had a deterrent effect rivaling the most complex Boundary Fields.

With a gesture to his companion, the young Vizard started off again. So far, the field looked to be the best site in this part of town to engage in battle. It was wide open, away from population centers, and offered cover from prying eyes with the tree line. After a few more minutes of walking, absorbing the sights and sounds of the city at work, a stray thought hit Ichigo. "Right, I almost forgot. I never did find out your true name."

It was hard to glean the woman's thoughts, though she seemed to stiffen very slightly at his words. "I don't know if it would be wise, at the very least, not in a public setting," she finally said.

"Huh?"

"While it might seem that we are alone, magi could have familiars around that can relay what they see and hear to their master. Birds, squirrels, dogs, cats, any animal could serve as a familiar to a skilled magus. On top of that, you have no formal training to resist mind-reading spells. If someone tried to do so, they would learn my identity very easily unless they tried to do so with no subtlety, in which case it's a battle of wills," she explained patiently, though Ichigo could have sworn on the Captain-General's sword that she wasn't being entirely honest.

"Alright, alright, you make a good point. But you're going to have to trust me with it eventually. Just don't wait too long, or it's only going to make matters worse in the long run," he replied with a deep scowl.

Rider looked away from his hard amber gaze. "Please understand that it's for your own protection as well as mine. I'll tell you my name when we know more about our enemies."

"The sooner the better. I'm pretty fed up with secrets these days." Leading a double life and always being a step behind his enemies (and in Urahara and the Vizards' case, his allies) had pretty much stripped him of his patience on the matter.

Rider could only nod. She hoped it wouldn't be _too_ soon…

* * *

On the opposite side of the river, Orihime, Uryu and Tatsuki marveled at the difference walking a block in Miyama could make. One street looked like a pleasant rural town with several comfy-looking traditional homes ideal for the middle class Japanese, while the next street up the hill changed into a heavily westernized suburb, with houses growing progressively larger the higher up the hill you looked. Crowning them all was a massive estate that, while not opulent in any extreme, had an almost regal air to it. Whoever lived there must hold great influence in the city. So far, no particular landmarks had stood out. The private parks in this region were too small and close to homes to risk a fight of the magnitude they were anticipating.

That would have been the end of their part of the tour had Uryu not noticed something odd about the house on top of the hill. "Hold on for a second."

Orihime tilted her head quizzically. "What is it, Ishida-kun?"

"You don't feel that? Something is surrounding that house: a barrier of some kind," the Quincy muttered as he pointed towards the massive manor atop the hill.

Orihime and Tatsuki both closed their eyes and focused, trying to expand their senses to detect what had caught their friend's attention.

When she found it, Tatsuki whistled in awe. "What do you call that?"

"Whoever established that barrier didn't want anyone entering without permission: its power is violent and destructive, but held within a distinct boundary," the Quincy surmised, pulling out a map of the city from his pocket to mark the location. It would be too risky to investigate now, after all. With that done, Uryu prepared to leave before noting that Orihime was still concentrating on something. "What is it?"

For a moment more, she didn't respond. "Orihime-chan?" Tatsuki tried.

Suddenly, and with no warning, the girl's eyes snapped open and she gave them a panicked look. Barely managing to keep her voice down she blurted out, "Someone's dying! This way!" before tearing off, slipping down a side street that curved towards the more open areas of Miyama. Thankfully, there wasn't anyone on the street to hear her distress, though several people did start cursing her reckless run.

"Hey! Wait up!" Tatsuki barked. "Damn it," she growled slightly before chasing after her friend.

Sighing, Uryu took off after them, subtly bolstering his speed with some ambient spirit energy. "Inoue-san, slow down. What did you sense?" he asked as he caught up.

"It's just up ahead! Someone's… someone's dying! Whoever it is, they're fading! They're hurt!" the healer nearly cried before darting around her friends and bolting along the hill's circumference.

As they chased after Orihime, Tatsuki managed to speak between harried breaths. "What's gotten into her? I haven't seen her panicked like this in years!"

"…Inoue-san's been much more aware of lives around her as of late, and appears to be trying to… make up for the times that she couldn't be of help to us. We all worry about her, but part of me thinks she needs this, if only to ease what she experienced in Hueco Mundo." His reply was analytical, but anyone with any experience with the guy could hear the concern in the calm archer's voice.

Tatsuki had heard fractions of tales from that bleak realm, passing references really, but she knew it would be a long time before she would be able to learn the sheer magnitude and horror of what had gone on in the Hollows' dimension.

True to her word, Orihime quickly led them to a small, abandoned shed at the edge of a patch of forest, likely part of a construction project that was left unfinished. Uryu hypothesized that whatever might have gone here was abandoned due to the fire, but cut his musings short when his spiritual awareness told him what Orihime already knew: someone was clinging to life in there, but was losing the battle. Perhaps a survivor of a Servant attack? A wounded Master?

"Arisawa-san, help me move this," Uryu said as he stood beside the broken, dented door. Aside from this old thing, the only way in was through a hole in the wall that required a person to crawl almost down on their stomachs. Tugging at it, he couldn't shift the thing at all on his own. Orihime was fretting, looking almost feverish as she held her fingertips against the pale blue hairclips that channeled her powers, painfully tempted to use Koten Zanshun to slash the thing open.

"Move aside, I got this," Tatsuki said before channeling her spirit energy into her arms. To her, the power that flowed through her soul either was cool and refreshing, or warm and soothing, always helping bring her mind into clarity. The world seemed clearer and crisper, and everything she did with her power felt like it held greater… significance, for lack of a better term.

Even when all she was doing was serving as the group's muscle.

With a yank, the old shed's door groaned and relinquished its hold, its rusted tracks grinding as the door slid open, part of the sheet metal folding like an accordion.

Inside the dusty old shed lay the source of Orihime's distress. She looked only slightly older than the three high-schoolers, likely in her early twenties, her skin pale from loss of blood. She was dirty with a layer of dust over the front of her clothing, which consisted of a very dark brown business suit complete with a dark, purplish-red tie, slacks and dress shoes. It was hard to make out her face due to her position and the poor lighting, but her features told them she definitely was not Japanese. Her right arm hung limp on her lap as she sat with her back against the far wall, her red, boyish-cut hair a tangled mess. More to the point, a pool of blood had formed below her left side, seeping through a makeshift sponge of tattered cloth that, to their spiritually attuned eyes, was reinforced by a slowly fading rune of greenish spirit energy.

The source of the blood was almost enough to make Tatsuki vomit on the spot, forcing her to gulp back some bile: the woman's left arm was completely gone, hacked off at the shoulder like a haunch of raw meat. Uryu narrowed his eyes. The likelihood of her being a survivor of a Servant attack was high, but first... "You were right, Inoue-san. She's hanging on, but if that rune burns out, she won't have the strength to survive."

Orihime barely heard his words. The horrible wound dredged up too many frightening memories: Grimmjow's brutal slaughter of Luppi after she healed his missing arm, watching the same Espada tear the two arrancar, Loly and Menoly, to pieces, Ichigo's fights, and Hollow Ichigo ripping off Ulquiorra's arm with contemptuous ease. Almost in a blind panic, Orihime called out four words:

"Soten Kisshun: I Reject!"


	5. Stray Hound: Part II

AN: College has decided to crush my brain, so finding time to hammer this out was slim. However, I think it came out quite well all things considered, despite being a little longer than I expected. Now, we finally catch up with the Fate/Stay Night story, so things will finally start to pick up as the lines are drawn. Apologies for the slow start, but some things needed to be explained beforehand.

Once again, I'd like to extend a hearty thanks to Logan –Murder of Crows for all of his assistance. As always, please review and I thank all those who found this little tale worth watching.

_Stray Hound: Part II_

All she wanted was to save her childhood hero.

During her youth, Bazett Fraga McRemitz had practically fallen in love with the tales of her hero's incredible deeds and cried at his tragic, unfair death. The Holy Grail originally didn't matter to her; at least until she found out what she'd be able to do in order to compete. It didn't matter if he was already dead; she had found a way to save him, to give him another chance to just enjoy life. Summoning a legendary hero completely motivated the lonely young woman, and she jumped at the chance to join the 5th War as a Master.

When she approached Kotomine, he kindly explained how the system worked, even showing her dozens of tomes detailing myths and folklore from around the world, as well as teaching her the mighty ritual to summon her protector. She made sure to do her homework, digging through archives and artifact collections until she found the symbol she needed to call him to her side. She had found an earring that belonged to him and, for the sake of novelty, had a matching set made for herself.

It took a considerable amount of effort not to jump for joy at seeing the real deal materialize before her in the summoning circle. His name, hidden behind his class, was plainly apparent to her the moment she saw his fiery gaze and his cocky grin. The legends did him no justice. He was more than she could have imagined: confident, open, handsome, with a wild, roguish charm to his words and mannerisms. Her knowledge of his abilities combined with her own skills as a magus and martial artist would give them the edge they needed to tear through the competition. She had little need to use her Command Seals either; Lancer was eager and willing to enjoy a good fight, something that he'd get in spades in this War.

The representative of the Mage's Association barely had time to enjoy her success before she was struck from behind, her arm harshly severed with a speed that caught both her and Lancer completely by surprise. Shock set in almost immediately, her mind barely able to process her Servant's enraged curses at the black-robed attacker. Worse, the man had severed her left arm, and with it, her Command Mantra, her rights as a Master. Left for dead in a forest by Lancer under the new Master's orders, it took nearly all of her willpower to cast a rune spell to halt the profuse bleeding. Light-headed and her body numb to most sensation aside from the searing pain of her shoulder, she staggered away from the spot, desperately hoping that she could reach help before her mana reserves burned out.

Despite her spell, shock had robbed Bazett of her remaining strength, and she was forced to seek shelter from the cold. Her legs gave out, but not before finding an old shed. She had to crawl the rest of the way to reach the gaping hole in the side, all the while struggling to remain conscious. If she fell asleep, she wouldn't be able to hold the rune in place. Last night had been excruciating, her consciousness fading in and out repeatedly and the will to live shaky at best. Even if she did survive, her dream had been shattered as quickly as she had accomplished it, making the encroaching numbness all the more inviting.

It was impossible for her to tell how long she sat there in the shed, her limbs practically useless, and her mana draining away. Already, she could feel her blood beginning to drip out of the wound. She knew that she was too weak to renew the rune anymore.

Then the world seemed to light up. White light bombarded the lonely old shed's interior, and with it, an influx of cool air. Bazett could hear voices, but her senses were too dulled and weak for her to make anything out. Then, as though a light from heaven, her vision became engulfed in a soft, golden glow that warmed her chill skin and slowly drove back the pain. _'Am I finally dead? Are the messengers of Heaven coming for me?'_ she thought wearily as the world slowly became clearer.

She still couldn't move, but from the corner of her eye, she spotted the most amazing thing: her left arm was slowly, almost tenderly, being reassembled out of thin air. Flecks of color would appear in the air around her missing limb and stick to the stump, expanding it with flesh and bone, even going so far as to restore the sleeves of her shirt and coat as it went. Despite the miraculous assembly, she felt no pain from her injury or from her half-restored arm. In her current sleep-deprived, weakened state, she decided that her soul was separating from her body, and her soul recalled the missing limb. Any second now, her soul would be drawn up towards its final reward.

Finally, her gloved hand was fully restored, and her mind slowly began to clear. The moment she tried to move, the golden light faded, and the chill winter air smacked her face with a vengeance, jolting her still addled thought process to a semblance of normal functionality. Instinctively, she brought her left hand to her face to rub her burning eyes. It was then that a stunning revelation: she was alive, and her missing arm was in its proper place, and more incredibly, she could _feel_ it, right down to the Magic Circuits. _'What happened? My arm… it's… a miracle?' _she stared at her gloved hand for a second before a feminine voice cut in.

"Are you alright, miss?" the voice asked, genuine concern filling the words. Looking up, Bazett made out the form of a pair of teenage girls against the overly bright light of the outside world. The speaker was the one on the right, who had long, auburn hair held away from her worried face by matching blue flower hairclips.

The one on the left, who had short, spiky, ebony hair, extended a hand towards her. "Need a hand? Take it slow: you look a little shaky."

'"_Shaky," nothing! What the hell is going on?'_ she mentally screamed even as she eased herself upright, taking the girl's hand. "Thank you; I think I'm okay." She found herself eating her words as, despite being uninjured (which STILL made no sense), she was still without real sleep, activity, and nourishment for almost a day. She stumbled, causing the short-haired girl to support her by slinging the taller red-head's arm across her shoulder, displaying strength that belied her small size.

"Got a name? I'm Tatsuki Arisawa, and the brunette is Orihime Inoue."

"Bazett Fraga McRemitz. A pleasure to meet you both," she said softly, her voice still lacking in strength.

Orihime moved to her opposite side, offering her own support in the same manner as her friend. "Here, let's get you checked out. Do you know where the hospital is? Or do you want to go rest somewhere?"

Bazett smiled slightly at her almost palpable kindness. "If you can make it, my hotel room is in central Shinto."

"Bit of a hike. Let's get a taxi," the one named Tatsuki suggested.

As the three descended down the hill back into the more populous areas of Miyama, a third teenager approached, clad in a white button-up shirt and black pants with a plain tan long coat over it. Most eye-catching to the magus was the fine silver chain around the boy's wrist. "I took the liberty of flagging down a taxi. Is this acceptable?" the ebony-haired young man inquired with an extreme politeness that rolled off of his tongue naturally.

"Man, you're good. We were just thinking about that," Tatsuki replied with a grin. Their demeanors were a startling contrast.

"Thank you so much, Ishida-kun!" Orihime's cheer was almost a palpable force in its own right. "Oh, I'm sorry! McRemitz-san, this is Uryu Ishida. Ishida-kun, this is Bazett Fraga McRemitz," remarkably, the girl didn't butcher her name's pronunciation very badly, which was more than Bazett expected, considering Orihime's apparent air-headedness.

"A pleasure," the thin boy said while adjusting his thin-frame glasses.

"Aye," she returned politely.

The quartet settled with Uryu staying behind due to lack of room. In private, he would have preferred to let the woman go on her own back to wherever she was staying, but given her weakness and Orihime's nature, it wasn't going to happen, and it would be a sunny day in Hueco Mundo before he'd let her go off unprotected. Oh, he'd still be close by, not that anyone would really notice. Once the car rolled off, he meandered calmly to a secluded spot between two walled compounds and vanished in a Hirenkyaku. From the rooftops, he tracked the highly recognizable trail of Orihime's gentle spiritual pressure like a guardian angel. He wasn't too concerned about being spotted: those who would see him would only get the briefest flicker before he was off again. The only time he slowed down was after racing ahead to the bridge and crossing the expanse over the river like any other normal schmuck. With the car path over his head, there was no danger of the taxi's passengers spotting him before he reached the other side.

In the taxi, Orihime attempted to make light conversation with their redheaded companion. "So um, McRemitz-san, where are you from? Your Japanese is very good."

"Thank you, and call me Bazett. I'm here from Ireland on business."

"Ireland? Wow, that's quite the trip. What do you do?" Tatsuki inquired. Orihime was a sterling judge of character, so if she felt like talking to someone, it was likely safe.

Bazett's cover for her true occupation came out smoothly. "I'm part of Human Resource Management in a multinational company. I'm here about an evaluation of a few of our managerial employees in our Japanese offices."

Nodding in understanding, Orihime temporarily lost herself in the image of Bazett tossing people out of doors and windows amidst cries of "you're fired!" and looming over cubicles like a cruel overseer, complete with cat-o-nine-tails and a drummer pounding out a cadence.

Blinking, Bazett waved a hand in front of the auburn-haired dreamer "Inoue-san? Are you alright?"

Tatsuki recognized the slightly open mouth and vacant eyes and chuckled in amusement, shaking her head. "Don't worry about her, you just sparked her imagination. She should come out of it soon enough." Truth be told, Orihime rarely daydreamed anymore. Considering how harsh her life always seemed and the nightmares of her time in captivity, it wasn't terribly surprising, but still rather depressing. The rare times she drifted off, it was because she was surrounded by friends and the enormous, protective spiritual pressure from them. If she was letting her mind wander she likely felt pretty safe, another point in Bazett's favor. The two short-haired women started some small talk, Tatsuki's own cover about her mission proved convincing enough to eliminate any lingering suspicions to the Irish woman, she hoped.

After about a minute of silence, Orihime emerged from her little visit to Lala Land, but brought with her some interesting commentary. "Your reign of terror ends here! Let my people go!" she shouted, raising her fist at an enemy only she perceived.

Bazett almost jumped out of her skin at the explosion of… bold defiance? Tatsuki was glad she was buckled into her seat; otherwise she would have fallen over from laughing so hard at the random statement, she was sure. Soon enough, Bazett joined her, Orihime even started to giggle sheepishly as she realized what had just happened.

The driver of the taxi merely shook his head, wondering why he always got the crazy ones.

After a moment of recovery, Bazett composed herself and cleared her throat, resuming a mature bearing. "By the way, how exactly did you two find me?"

Orihime barely suppressed a wince. In her hurry to save this woman, she didn't consider the idea of having to explain it. Thankfully, Tatsuki stepped in and saved her from trying to spin a lie, something that she was never very good at. "We were going on a bit of a tour of Miyama for our enrichment project, and ended up nearby completely by accident. Orihime-chan spotted you through that shed's broken door. That thing was two steps from simply falling off, so we moved it and found you. What happened? You don't look injured, but you didn't exactly look like you were feeling well, no offense."

Now it was the Irish magus's turn to be on the back foot. The truth was out of the question obviously, and the fact that aside from her exhaustion and hunger she was in perfect health, including her formerly missing arm, rendered falling back on the injury moot. Even her clothes were in good condition. All she managed to come up with was an honest-sounding "None taken. I honestly don't know, though. All I remember is leaving from work at night and then feeling a jolt of pain. Everything after that is hazy until I woke up to you two helping me."

Both sides could tell that the other wasn't being entirely truthful, but didn't want to push the issue. The chances of meeting again were slim, so as long as nothing forced them to reveal anything more, it would work out for the best.

"You sure you don't want to go to the hospital? Who knows what might have happened while you were out?" Orihime asked.

Bazett smiled at the genuine concern from the girl. "I'm sure. What I really need is a hot meal, a shower, and a good night's sleep. After that, I'll visit the hospital if I still don't feel well."

The rest of the ride was mostly immersed in small talk until the taxi ground to a halt next to a hotel. Unlike the massive spire of opulent wealth and comfort the Karakura crew were staying at, this one looked reasonably normal. It suited someone on a business trip: comfortable, but affordable. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a sheet of paper and a pen and quickly scratched out her full name and the hotel's address. "Thank you both for your help. If there is anything I can do to repay this debt, please do not hesitate to ask," the woman bowed her head politely before trying to pull herself out of the taxi. Despite her weakness, she managed to move reasonably briskly into the hotel… once Orihime helped her regain her feet on the way out of the car.

Departing the cab, Orihime led Tatsuki to an alleyway. "Oi, what are we doing here?" Tatsuki asked, glancing around.

Orihime smiled. "Waiting for Ishida-kun!"

Sure enough, quite literally an eye-blink later, the last (well, technically second-to-last) Quincy appeared at the very back of the alley thanks to one last Hirenkyaku, phasing into existence from wherever he was hiding. "Greetings."

While Orihime beamed in his direction with nary a twitch, Tatsuki visibly jumped. Admittedly, she was getting better at detecting or at least tolerating these sudden appearances. Training with Yoruichi had completely redefined her concept of speed. "Oh sure, rub it in why don't ya? When we get back, I'm going to learn Shunpo even if it kills me!" Both of her spiritually sensitive friends chuckled merrily at her irritation before slipping back into the crowds with her and returned to the penthouse for the day.

From her hotel room, Bazett sighed in both relief and consternation, having just taken a much needed, if short, shower to clear her head and finally clean the last day's stink from her. Absently, she looked to her restored left hand. No matter how little sense it made, she couldn't deny that it had once been chopped off and now there it was again, responding to her will as it always did prior. It was a conundrum that plagued the Irish magus to the point of nearly yanking on her short hair. Hell, even the Command Mantra remained affixed to the back of it.

However, it lacked the feeling of connection to Lancer. She couldn't sense him at all, and that depressed her almost as much as sitting in a shed and letting her life ebb away did. The red glow that once suffused it had faded to nothing, leaving only a pinkish array akin to a Celtic rune. Under normal circumstances, she'd take this as a sign to go home and return to her duties, but...

A sudden pulse from her magic circuits nearly made her wince.

Ever since she came to, she'd randomly and unwillingly release surges of her magical energy out of her body, directed towards an unseen benefactor she couldn't track or identify. Even stranger: she thought that once the Mantras were all used they would fade away, but there they were; effectively useless, but still present. Oh well. She'd decide whether or not to stay for a while longer if they were still there after she got a meal and some sleep. For now, her stomach demanded that she visit the adjoining restaurant with a violent roar.

Elsewhere, a certain blue-clad fighting machine stared over the city from the church steeple, gritting his teeth in barely contained frustration. Despite being in such a visible position in broad daylight, he wasn't concerned about being seen. His "Master" had astralized him almost as soon as he returned, both to lessen the strain on his mana reserves, and to keep him out of sight until he was needed for another petty spy mission. Essentially, he was invisible to everyone but Servants and, for now at least, free to wander the immediate area. Normally, he'd sit at the extreme edges of his permitted range, but he needed a better vantage point. "What the hell's going on out there?" he growled to himself. It wasn't that he was low on mana; quite the contrary, a fresh influx was doing a damn fine job of restoring his strength. Even that damned bruise on his calf from that berry-head last night was reduced to a dull throbbing.

The problem was that his Master wasn't the one providing the mana. Someone in the city was sending quite the respectable amount, almost the same as the contract normally forced the Masters to provide. Another issue was that he couldn't pinpoint it; instead of a stream that could be traced like a typical Master/Servant contract, the mana came in waves that were sporadic and unstable, making it impossible to locate. Heck, he couldn't even gauge the distance! All he could tell was the general direction: it was out in the city somewhere. Fat lot of good that did him!

Of course, his damn Master wouldn't let him leave on the off chance he found out about another Servant, in which case he'd be let off the chain to test their strength. This was NOT the way a hero with his track record should be treated!

"Greetings, Lancer. Beautiful day is it not?" the damnably cheery voice of a certain blond bastard reached him from below.

"You know, if you're not careful someone's gonna see you talking to empty space and pitch you into the nut house. Not that you don't belong there anyway," Lancer grunted in reply, barely taking his eyes off the city skyline.

The man laughed heartily. "I doubt that. It's not like those peasants would want to involve themselves in the affairs of an apparent madman."

"There's no 'apparent' about it," the spearman growled quietly.

The man below chuckled and gave a dismissive wave as he headed into the church. "Good luck in this war. You'll need all that you can scrounge."

Lancer grunted, but couldn't exactly retort. His luck was kind of pitiful as of late.

His only solace came in the hope that he would run into carrot-top again. Just the thought of facing him again brought a battle-hungry grin to his formerly scowling face.

Had Ichigo seen it, he would have felt compelled to draw a comparison with Grimmjow.

* * *

The day passed relatively uneventfully after Uryu's team dropped off Bazett. The closest thing to an encounter the Karakura crew had that night was a surge of indistinct spiritual pressure from the west of the penthouse. Though it galled them, the distance was simply too great for them to reach in time to learn anything. Overall, today accomplished little in terms of bringing the war to an end, but they did have a few key locations that had been gathered marked on a map on the coffee table: the house on the hill in Miyama that Uryu detected a barrier around, the field Ichigo had noted as a possible battleground, a mostly abandoned pier at the northern end of Miyama that was far enough away from everything to serve as a battlefield, the church of course, and the woods south of Shinto, which radiated a disturbing amount of negative energy. This last tidbit brought on another observation that put the guardians from Karakura on edge: no Hollows anywhere.

Normally, any city would have a small number of prowling Hollows appear every once in a while, but for none to be seen in two days in such a spiritually rich area, it was eerie. It was understandably grating on Ichigo and Rukia's nerves, and to a lesser degree on Uryu. Their instincts told them that something was off, and for the life of them they couldn't figure out what. No orders had come from Soul Society on that subject, either.

"This doesn't make any sense! There is absolutely no way there are NO Hollows in this town! This place has almost as many spirit particles as Karakura!" Ichigo growled after taking a swig of milk.

"Perhaps the magi have something to do with it, or perhaps the Holy Grail prevents their entry," Rider hypothesized.

Rukia shook her head, just as tense as Ichigo. "Even if they did, we would still pick up on their spiritual pressure if they were close by at any point, and the Soul Society would send out orders the moment a Hollow started passing through the Garganta within at least 3 miles of us. Something's wrong."

"Simply one more thing to watch out for during patrol," Ishida said calmly. "If the Holy Grail really is what's keeping the Hollows at bay, than the Soul Society will want to know about it."

"Yeah, but let's not dangle something like that in front of them until we're sure," Ichigo mused, not liking the idea of the 12th Division getting involved in this mess. For one thing, Kurotsuchi would gladly put Rider under the knife first chance he got… Shaking his head to cut off that particularly disturbing train of thought, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his deputy badge. "Oi, Kon!" he called.

The lion plushy bounded up to the coffee table, his enjoyment at seeing beautiful women on three sides tempered by the look in Ichigo's eyes. "Whaddya want, Strawberry?" he grumbled, crossing his puffy arms in obvious annoyance. His answer came in the form of the deputy badge kicking him out of his body and onto the table.

"So that's what he really looks like?" Rider asked in surprise. She had assumed that referring to Kon as a "pill" was a term to describe his irritating tendencies. Looking at the little green ball, she could scarcely believe the accuracy of the description.

Nodding, Ichigo gulped down the pill and rose from his body, once more in his Soul Reaper form, while Kon's consciousness took over Ichigo's limp body. "Kon, stay here while we do our sweeps. DON'T leave the hotel, but feel free to order dinner."

"Aw c'mon Ichigo, what could I possibly do to earn practical house arrest?" the mod soul whined, which did NOT match Ichigo's normal behavior at all. For Rider, it looked positively alien to see Ichigo's face look so pathetic and hear his voice whine.

"Way more things than I care to list. You ready Rukia?" he turned back towards his petite friend just as her own substitute soul kicked her from her gigai. "Chappy, keep Kon out of trouble, and contact me if anything happens."

"Of course, Rukia-sama! Hop."

"Let's go," Rukia said as she walked to the open balcony. Ichigo followed, Rider a step behind.

Sensing this, Ichigo turned and gave her a quizzical look. "Er, you plan on coming?"

"Yes" was her simple reply.

Rukia shrugged and stepped off the balcony ledge, standing on a pad of her spirit energy as solidly as the ground. Rider tensed slightly at the feat. "No offense Rider, but unless you can fly, you probably can't keep up," Rukia explained with a slightly sheepish look on her face.

Rider nodded. "While I can't fly, I'll manage," so saying, the statuesque Heroic Spirit simply hopped of the edge of the railing, swinging her leg and skidding to halt… while sticking to the side of the building, practically giving gravity the proverbial finger to an equal degree as the Soul Reapers above her. Sure, standing on a pad of spirit energy was impressive, but clinging to walls like they were level surfaces was pretty awesome in its own right. "I'll use the buildings to remain out of sight. Lead the way," Rider said, turning in place to face the wide-eyed Soul Reapers.

Patrol went smoothly. The three spirits moved closer to ground level and settled for roof running to conserve energy and respond quicker to potential threats. Both Soul Reapers were actually amazed by Rider though: she silently kept pace with them both easily, never falling behind and covering vast gaps between roofs with graceful leaps. Hell, she wasn't even breathing hard after over five miles while running at a pace that would rival an Olympic sprinter! Not that the other two were worn out, but it reinforced the notion of Heroic Spirits being well beyond human limits.

Finally, after over two hours of roof-hopping, Ichigo and Rukia both stiffened slightly when a beeping sound emanated from Rukia's pocket. Pulling out her Soul Pager, she quickly checked the location and pointed off to the right. Ichigo nodded and glanced back at his Servant. "Oi, Rider. We got a Hollow. This way," he called back and shot off to the right at a far greater pace. Amazingly, Rider twisted herself in an almost absurd display of agility and kept pace, still not even looking pressed. Rider had heard the generic description of these "Hollows," but other than wearing white masks and having a hole somewhere on their bodies, she knew nothing about them.

When she saw the air crack and tear open, she could see why descriptions were so vague: the thing was unlike any manner of beast she had seen in this world. Standing nearly ten feet tall, its bone-white mask was monstrous, combining the features dozens of animals. Two glowing red slits blazed in its eye holes. Its body was large, black and heavily muscled. Stripes of blue and crimson colored its flanks, and its thick arms are tipped by heavy blades that resembled a pair of oversized sickles on each hand. The moment it came through, it released a long, mournful howl that chilled the blood of all who could hear it, save the three directly before it. Each of them had seen far worse than this thing.

Heck, to Ichigo and Rukia, this particular Hollow was about as threatening to their physical health as Kon. "You want this one?" Rukia asked casually, not even looking all that concerned.

Ichigo drew Zangetsu, the cloth loosening and dropping off its gleaming surface. "You're too kind. Don't mind if I do." Before he could move, the creature's howl dissolved into a pained screech.

It was then that the two Soul Reapers noted the knife embedded deep into its neck and the chain leading back to Rider's arm. What surprised them was when Rider leapt over the thing's head, wrapping the chain partially around its neck before she yanked suddenly, successfully pulling the Hollow off of its feet and through the air, slamming onto the concrete hard enough to crack the ground on impact. Both Reapers watched in amazement at the display of strength. "Wow. I knew she was supposed to be strong, but geez," Ichigo almost winced as Rider silently and methodically crippled each of the Hollow's limbs with precision strikes, dancing around her opponent's clumsy attempts to counter as smoothly as a serpent.

Calling Rider back after seeing the Hollow collapse under its own bulk, Ichigo purified the thing with a single sweep of his zanpakuto. "Well, I feel at least a little better," he admitted to the two women.

Rider didn't look terribly impressed. "So that was a Hollow? I expected a bit more from it."

"They range. That was a weak one. It likely hadn't been a Hollow for very long. The strongest rarely if ever come through, and their power outstrips all of ours." Rukia conveniently left out that Ichigo was capable of squaring off with a Vasto Lorde, but the risks to both his soul and the surrounding terrain made it a very risky venture.

Ichigo, recalling his fight with Ulquiorra, the Vasto Lorde-level arrancar, decided not to interject about his own abilities. "Yeah. The only Hollows that come through with any regularity are hungry souls about as strong as that one. Some are smarter, others faster, but that's the gist of it."

Rider, who had watched the creature dissolve into flecks of light, found it hard to believe that such powerful beings could exist anywhere without tearing the world apart. "It suddenly makes more sense why Soul Reapers must be trained warriors," she said before the three resumed their vigil.

Another hour of patrol saw them return to the penthouse with nothing further to report. With nothing more to do, the group relaxed for a short while before retiring for the night. It was agreed that it would be prudent for the two Reapers and, by her own insistence, Rider to patrol for Hollows as a group every night instead of waiting for orders on top of the nightly watch for Holy Grail-related nonsense. One by one, the _nakama_ turned in for the night. Rider had already made a huge dent in her book, and seemed reluctant to put it down. She went to bed last.

In his bed, Ichigo tossed about in discomfort, his dreams awhirl with unfamiliar sights and emotions: a mist-shrouded island, pristine white ruins with grooved columns that towered towards the open sky. The vast ocean, a sense of longing. A ship, a sense of dread crushed beneath a resolve to protect. Men with swords, shields, sacks and sneers. Fear. Anger. Blood. Screams. Death. Nausea. Pain. Sorrow. Hate. And…

Hunger. Always this sickening hunger.

Ichigo's eyes snapped open and shot upright in less than a second, panting in a cold sweat. The dream made no sense; it was a jumble of disjointed images and emotions, but the content was almost like looking through a partially sane Hollow's eyes. At the same time, one urge underlay all of the images: a drive to protect family. It guided every action in the dream. But that hunger… the deputy Reaper felt terribly cold. Is that what it's like to truly be a Hollow? Speaking of which, was his own inner monster the same way? Unlike before his training with the Vizard, he received no reply from the albino maniac, not even so much as a mental smirk. He lay back and stared at the ceiling, trying to will himself back to sleep. He lay there for quite some time before finally drifting back off.

And deep within his inner world, a figure clad in a long black coat scowled slightly at the three immense petals of red light that had rooted themselves to the sideways city with tendrils of unimaginable power. The sky, which had been beautiful and clear for the longest it had been in months, was once more clouded with anxiety and emotional tension. _"We must have words, 'Rider,'"_ the figure's baritone voice echoed powerfully through the steel valleys and towers. Without any fear or hesitation, Zangetsu walked up to the closest of the vast red petals that represented the Command Spell and examined the sigil with a critical eye. Once he figured out how to take advantage of this link, he would make sure Rider understood _exactly_ what it meant to involve herself in Ichigo's life so abruptly. He placed his pale calloused hand on the red panel before him, feeling the pull on Ichigo's vast power and, by extension, his own.

If she was truly as loyal and strong-hearted as she seemed, he'd lend her his aid and trust. But if she held any ill intentions towards his partner, he would destroy her soul.

Utterly.

* * *

Tuesday evening, almost three days since his first encounter with Ichigo, Lancer was practically giddy. Apparently the sixth Master had called in earlier, and he was free to hunt the new pair down. Sure, he couldn't go all out, but it at least brought temporary relief from the mind-numbing boredom of waiting and the maddening frustration of not knowing where the extra mana he got was coming from. After nearly two days with no action, Lancer felt like he was in danger of going stir crazy so, for once, he went off on his "petty spy mission" with minimal complaint. Leaping across the rooftops, it didn't take long for him to reach the bridge. According to Kirei, his best chance lay in looking in Shinto, as the Master apparently lived there. Not much to go on; Shinto was a huge place, but at least it didn't have as many tall buildings, and did have significantly more open space than Miyama.

While he passed over the streets towards the bridge dividing the two towns, he scanned the area for any familiar heads of chromatic hair. He may have a mission, but that didn't mean he couldn't goad a particular Master into joining the game now did it? Crossing over the heads of late night shoppers and the late dinner crowds, he shook his head derisively at the people below. They had no idea how close to death they were. One word from their Masters, and the Servants would be having a full buffet of souls. So long as no witnesses remained, they were all fair game to any unscrupulous Master. He cringed at the thought of involving them: he was a hero, dammit! He protected innocent lives, not butchered them like cattle!

Turning his head forward to prepare for the landing and subsequent jump, a single image flickered in his peripheral vision, one that nearly made the hyper-agile spear master stumble onto his face on the far roof. "What the-?" he mumbled to himself as he turned back around and looked back into the streets. Lancer scanned the crowd, his crimson eyes darting between the various stores. "Must have been my imagination… yeah…" he muttered. In his life, his sharp eyes always picked up on the slightest of movements, and rarely did his eyes deceive him, but just then… For the briefest of instants, he could have sworn he saw a head of short red hair topping a tall woman in a brown suit. "It couldn't have been her!" he almost snarled, his hate for his current Master spiking at the memory of his true summoner's betrayal. With an angry growl, he resumed his swift trek to Shinto, running along the suspension cables without so much as slipping despite moving at speeds that would put any man or beast to shame.

Pushing the image of an armless Bazett out of his head, Lancer skidded to a halt atop a small house, scanning for any signs of superhuman movement or auras. Sensing nothing, he hopped from roof to roof, slowly cutting westward towards the old temple.

About fifteen minutes later, Lancer spotted the local high school, which would have likely never really drawn his attention over the mansions higher up the hill had he not spotted two familiar figures. "Found you…" he grinned as he sped up, his eyes locked on the splash of orange and the line of lavender that stood side by side on the roof of the school's main building. As he got closer, he could see a third figure, though the combination of black clothing and black hair only revealed so much. The third figure was short, barely reaching the other two's chest level.

Two blocks away from the target, his grin dropped in shock: all three forms flickered out of existence, leaving the rooftop empty. "What the HELL!?" the knight jumped onto the roof of the building and scanned the area, his face settling into confusion as he perched himself on the water tank, his eyes peering back towards the brighter lights of Miyama. "Heh. I really _am_ losing it. First, I see my very dead former Master out of nowhere, then mirages of Strawberry and that blind succubus of his. What's next, being told off by stuffed animals?" he groused.

Elsewhere, Kon sneezed within Ichigo's body. "Someone must be talking about me. Probably that goddess of beauty that's freeloading with us," he mused while digging through the phone book for Chinese food.

Back at the school, Lancer crossed his arms, taking a few minutes to think about the back-to-back mysteries. He still needs to find the new Master/Servant pair, but he let himself get distracted by those other two, even if they weren't real! He grumbled to himself for another few seconds before his inhumanly sharp hearing picked up the door to the roof opening with a click and a creak. Some girl was whispering to someone else, saying "I'm telling you, someone's up there."

Another, distinctly older, male voice replied, "I don't doubt that. I'm questioning you charging up here rather than falling back and taking a more advantageous position."

"That energy was enormous, but unstable. If it was a spell being prepped, it'll be a disaster for the entire area," the girl's voice hissed as quietly as it could. If he weren't a Servant alone in the middle of the quiet night, he'd likely never have picked up on the person's voice at all.

Lancer spun on his perch and found himself staring into the crystal blue eyes of a young woman. A high school girl stared back at him, dressed in a red, knee-length jacket over a school uniform, which consisted of a knee-length black skirt, a white button-up blouse with a khaki vest over it. She looked pretty cute, actually, her black hair done up at the sides of her head in two pigtails that dangled past her shoulders. Both stood silent for a few seconds, barely able to comprehend the other's presence. At first, Lancer cursed himself for his stupidity at letting himself be seen by some random girl hanging around after dark.

Then a ghostly figured drifted into position behind her, inverting Lancer's dour mood instantly. A tall, dark-skinned man with white hair hovered behind her, dressed in black armor topped with a red coat of his own. Well, it was more like the sleeves of one and a cape that came down from his belt down to his calves. "Well, well, well. Just who I needed to-" Lancer started, only for the door to shut, leaving him alone on the roof again. "-see. Dammit, not tonight, little lady!" he growled. He cricked his neck, his crimson eyes lighting up with glee at the thought of a good fight these two could hopefully provide. If he was lucky, the Servant would prove as interesting a challenge as Ichigo.

Sure enough, the girl must have realized there is nowhere to run. Lancer's speed made attempts to escape like taking the back door meaningless, especially since his perch offered him a panoramic view of every possible route off campus. The moment she appeared again, slipping out towards the front gate, Lancer grinned and jumped. From a complete standstill, he had covered nearly half the distance between the main building and the front gate, cutting the Master off at fifty yards. "It ain't polite to run off when someone's chatting with you, little lady," he said cheerfully. "Now, what's a cute one like you doing out in this dangerous city after curfew?" His voice was free of mocking, despite being fully aware of the reason.

The girl took a step back, obviously unnerved by the spear master's completely disarming demeanor. However, as she slowly backed away, she composed herself. Lancer shrugged at her attitude. "Sorry lady, but if you're trying to play dumb, it's a little late. See, I already saw your Servant at your back when you came to the roof." he explained before extending his arm behind him, a sliver of red expanding between his fingers until a two meter spear formed in his ready fist. Gae Bolg thrummed in his hand, a familiar, bloodthirsty weight. "Speaking of which, if you don't call him, you'll die right here."

"As I thought: a Servant…" she breathed, masking her fear as best she could.

"Got it in one, little lady. Since you're so smart, that means you know we're enemies. So…" he grinned jovially at the girl, like she's an old friend from way back when. Judging by that shiver that ran through her, she considered the idea bone-chilling. "…how are you gonna reply, little lady?"

His answer came in the form of a barrage of arrows swathed in light. They whistled over the girl's shoulders, over her head and to her sides, expertly aimed at his various joints and vital areas as the girl slowly stepped back, the arrows' launch pattern adjusting to allow her freedom to move as needed.

Lancer's personal skill kicked in the moment the first arrow entered view. His spear flicked up and began spinning with unmatchable speed, knocking arrows out of the way and not even being grazed by any of them. The barrage was barely enough to wake up the blue-clad warrior's instincts, but it still kept him from pursuing the girl until she had dropped back near the main building. From the look on her face, that little ambush was intended to cripple him but failed royally, to her surprise. "Any ideas, Archer?" she asked quietly.

The red-clad Servant didn't have his bow out when Lancer spotted him stepping onto the field. "Let me fight him full on," he stated coolly.

The Master seemed somewhat taken aback by his declaration, but nodded, an earnest smirk on her face. "Alright, this is a good a time as any. I won't help you. Make me regret my earlier words."

The white-haired pretty boy smirked. "Heh."

Lancer lifted an eyebrow at the "Archer" before him. Instead of a bow, a single white short sword shaped like a falchion hung lightly in his fingers. "Normally I'd laugh at seeing an Archer-class with a sword, but… I think I'll hold back judgment until after we have a little fun," he grinned savagely as he lowered himself into his stance. He smiled jovially when his new opponent flew into battle, his body a crimson missile. "Moron," Lancer said cheekily as he thrust his cursed javelin, stopping Archer cold to avoid the weapon. The most agile of Servants slid forward slightly and began a pleasant warm-up: a storm of blows only twice as fast as a skilled human's swiftest.

Lancer's crimson eyes practically glowed with his building frenzy, while Archer's steel gray orbs remained cool and in total control as he parried or dodged each strike, forced back by the longer weapon's range. Lancer's strikes sped up as it became apparent that Archer wasn't a slouch in melee. "Is this your limit? Compared to _him_, you're pathetically slow," he grunted in mild annoyance before speeding up again, leaving his opponent with no room to even breathe between blows. Switching from a stab to a swing the moment the attack lined up with Archer's wrist, Lancer blew the sword clear from Archer's hands, sending the weapon spinning out into the night and drove his crimson blade towards the knight's skull. "It's over."

Instead of a dead Servant, Lancer found his attack being diverted by the very same blade he had just disposed of. He wasn't the master of his weapon for nothing though, and the blue marauder switched back onto the attack immediately, his stabs mixing with vicious swings. Again, he disarmed his wily opponent and moved in for the kill, and again that damn white sword pushed his attack away.

The key difference between the first and second counterattack was the addition of a black sword that was suddenly in Archer's off hand. The black blade, an otherwise perfect mirror of the white one, screamed towards Lancer's throat, forcing him back to the limits of his spear's range. "Crap, another sword?"

Archer's entire demeanor shifted with the addition of the second blade, his eyes narrowed in determination. The renewed exchange is faster than the previous by leagues. The air itself seems to warp, the three blades tearing towards each other in a symphony of steel, building a small typhoon around them. Any mere human who stepped too close would be sliced apart before the first sensation of pain reached their brains. Archer slowly advanced, his twin blades pushing aside each strike Lancer aimed with staggering skill. Lancer's grin dissolved at the sight of the slowly, steadily advancing "bowman."

It wasn't even that Archer is suddenly more skilled: every time their weapons crossed, one of the twin blades was thrown aside or broken, only to reappear in his hand, whole and razor-edged, in time to intercept the next attack.

A swing towards the kidney was caught and redirected by the twin blades, shattering the black blade but forcing Lancer to twist the weapon along his waist to retain control while Archer advanced half a step. A flurry of blows aimed at the head, throat and solar plexus all were countered and Archer slipped a little closer. No matter how fast the cyclone of blades became, Archer always found that one tiny gap in each instance that allowed him to gain ground. Lancer was forced to slide himself from side to side to keep the Servant in red from closing the gap completely.

Though the whole thing only lasted fifteen seconds tops, the number of blows neared a hundred, but neither side was any closer to taking the other down. Lancer gritted his teeth, stepping back in a blur to regain some measure of control. "Twenty. Seven. I disarmed you twenty-seven times and you STILL keep pulling more swords!" he growled in confusion. This war wasn't even officially underway, and it already was going completely off the deep end! Since when could Archers fight like mini-Sabers and Masters fight like Servants?

Across the opened gap, Archer smiled smugly. "What's wrong? Don't tell me you're done after that little display. What happened to all of your earlier vigor?"

Lancer shifted his glare from the swords to the hawk-like eyes of his opponent, his frustration reaching an all-time high. "Shut the hell up, you cheater. You're almost as bad as Berry Brow and the succubus."

"'Berry Brow?' 'Succubus?'" Both Archer and his Master ask in odd unison.

At this point, Lancer was too pissed to care, and his temper got the best of him: he started rambling. "Pair of tall punks dressed in black, both about yay tall. Strawberry's got bright orange hair. Orange! If that ain't distinct enough, he's got a butcher knife as long as he is tall to go with his samurai getup. Bastard's a good fighter though, fast as hell. He might be able to keep up with me when I go all out! Then that hot, blindfolded chick with him knows what she's doing with those knives. Kicks like a mule, too. Too bad both are so serious about their fights."

Archer narrowed his eyes, a subtle act that cleared Lancer's head of his rambling thoughts. "Shit. Well that should qualify as a favor to you, so you can now do ME a favor: tell me, what hero were you?"

The bow-wielding swordsman adjusted his grip on his swords, but didn't attack, his expression still infuriatingly smug. "Now that would be telling. However, I already know who you are now. Only the fastest heroes can take up the mantle of Lancer, and even among them, you're in a class of your own. I doubt there are four heroes in all of history who could keep up with your beast-like agility. Am I right, Hound of Ulster?"

Archer switched into a loose stance as Lancer dropped into a different stance than the one he had been using, one that would end the fight immediately. "Tch. I guess that settles it: I'll have your heart on my spear!" he declared as the blade in his hands began to rage against his grip, screaming for blood. The eyes of both Master and Servant widened in response to the change the curse of Gae Bolg brought to the air around them.

All contestants froze at the distinct sound of a twig snapping from behind the gym to Lancer's right. Lifting his eyes slightly, the red-eyed warrior canceled his curse, though this time it was not to save his own skin. "Looks like you two get off easy," he growled as a shadow bolted away from the corner where the sound originated. He took off in hot pursuit, his sudden movement leaving the other two of them holding the bag. Leaping through a door that had been swinging shut and following his prey up the steps to the second floor, Lancer flew by the kid at a speed that the panic-stricken boy couldn't even register until after he stopped to catch his breath.

Lancer almost smacked himself as he looked at the kid who had been caught snooping. Red hair. Another redhead was making his life difficult. He was very similar in size and build to Ichigo, if a little shorter. Dressed in the male uniform of the school, he looked understandably terrified of the blue devil. The boy's wide eyes were almost an ochre color and maybe even slightly innocent despite the hint of steel to them, and his features were still a little boyish. The boy was sweating heavily and panting as his body twitched under the influence of adrenaline. "So, another redhead pops up to mess with me. It's like all my troubles come back to you guys. Gotta say though, you ran pretty far, kid."

The boy stumbled back and fell onto his butt, his body leaning against the wall. It was an understandable reaction; after all, Lancer did pass him and appear in front of him without even revealing his presence until after the boy stopped running. "There's no reason to be ashamed, kid: everyone feels scared when they are about to die. Nothing personal," he said casually before rushing the prone boy, cleanly driving his blade into the boy's heart. "Sorry about this, but rules are rules. Rest in peace," he muttered as he ripped his barbed blade from the unlucky schmuck's chest. "If I ever meet another redhead, I'm going to kill them preemptively before they bring me more bad luck," he chuckled at his own morbid joke before departing the school. Even if he wanted to continue the fight with Archer, he had already fulfilled his mission, and Kirei had given him strict orders.

At least tonight had offered him some reprieve from his boredom.


	6. Of Souls and Swords: Part I

AN: Phew! This one's a long one! Alright people, I've got a quick announcement. Starting next chapter, I will be raising this story to an "M" rating, as things will begin to get more active, violent and so on. Well, here's the next chapter, so all of you out there, enjoy!

Thanks to all of you who offered me ideas and encouragement. Logan– Murder of Crows, you have my thanks for your input. Reviews are much appreciated, and feel free to PM me on any concerns or what have you.

_Of Souls and Swords: Part I_

Rider's sleep was interrupted in the most bizarre manner. While her rests were often riddled with strange dreams of Hollows and Soul Reapers in battle, this time something changed.

_The stones clacked beneath the frenzied cadence of sandals pounding about in desperation. The demon could be anywhere: its bloodlust filled the air with a cloying sensation, weighing down the body and creating a pervasive dread, like the grim reaper's scythe at your throat. The beast of a man was so powerful that the free strike he offered and received to the chest left both hands bleeding and the giant without even a scratch. How could you fight something you couldn't cut? If what he said was true, all of the power, all of the training was meaningless in the face of that overwhelming power he exuded._

_No time for further thought was given: the right wall just ahead cracked and quite literally exploded, the one-eyed monster's notched and overlong blade ripping through the stone as easily as if it were nothing more than brittle plastic. While it looked vaguely human and dressed in a tattered white _haori _over his black _shihakushou_, the man was impossibly strong, using one hand to smash any hurried guard with stupefying ease. Even a near miss blew holes in the ground where the blade passed. The man looked disappointed, even more so when the need to survive lent speed to another attempted retreat._

Rider's dream suddenly began to spin out of control, a deep pulling sensation jarring her drifting mind to consciousness. However, instead of opening her eyes to the ceiling of the penthouse's bedroom, she only saw blackness, deeper than even that of behind her eyelids at night. With it came the sensation of riding an invisible wave downwards until she found her vision fading in.

The world looked to be tinted red, a sprawling city stretching out before her, with the light level more akin to midday. She wasn't on the ground either, but rather, standing sideways on a window, the ground off to her right a ways off. Now, this alone wasn't new for the Servant, but the sensation of this being the normal gravitational arrangement was. Even when she used her ability with Ichigo and Rukia, she could still feel gravity tugging at her back towards the ground, which mainly was there to affirm her sense of direction rather than hinder her. If she wanted, she could make her long hair flow as if whatever surface she was on was level ground, regardless of the actual orientation.

More to the point, sensation and perception in this place was clear and distinct; her mind was awake and aware, her body alert and ready. This allowed Rider to notice the energy flowing through the space. It had a distinct feel to it, a unique texture that she had grown quite familiar with over the last few days: Ichigo. Everything around her felt of Ichigo, from the building beneath her feet to the very air she breathed. It even pressed against her like a wind, swirling around and even through her, some of it flowing into her with no resistance. It was like this entire world was constructed from Ichigo's will manifesting itself. That thought nearly blew her away at the implications. Could Ichigo… could he be one of those rare and infamous magi with a "Reality Marble?"

As her senses snapped to sharp relief, she noted that something was clamped firmly to her wrist. A hand, pale as death and calloused like a swordsman. The hand was the only thing that wasn't tinted red, that and the black sleeve that led through what was now clear to be a red window or barrier of some kind, almost like looking into her Blood Fort Andromeda. That explained the red tint, but who was holding her?

She didn't recognize the man, though he was quite distinctive: clad in a long black coat that moved of its own accord like flames, his wavy, shoulder-length hair was also dark, contrasting sharply with his pale skin. His scowl was stern, his sharp features and piercing eyes practically trying to bore a hole in her head.

Finally, he opened his mouth and appeared to speak. "■a■ y■■ ■■a■ ■■, ■■d■■?" Something, likely the red wall between them, cut off his words, garbling any clear form of communication. She shook her head a little and tilted it slightly, doubting her voice would have any better luck. Still, it didn't hurt to try.

"Who are you?" she asked clearly.

The figure in black narrowed his eyes behind his sunglasses, his expression tightening slightly. He couldn't hear her either. Giving a notable sigh, he released her wrist and pulled his arm back through the barrier. Rider barely had time to notice that the man's hand was smoldering slightly as it passed through before the pulling sensation from before yanked her back into darkness.

The hotel room faded into view, the mattress at her back. She sat up smoothly, glancing at her left wrist where that man had gripped her. Something about him… about that dark-garbed man… reminded her of Ichigo. Maybe it was simply the constant scowl, but her instincts niggled at her stubbornly, telling her that it ran deeper than that. Perhaps it had something to do with being a Soul Reaper. In all honesty, it wouldn't be much of a stretch to accept the events as such a thing; she still knew next to nothing about these psychopomp swordsmen aside from Rukia's rather… unique attempt to explain their chief duties and the brief displays of power the two performed.

For the moment, she set aside the events as a lucid dream. She needed more information to decide the significance of the man and that strange sideways world he seemed to have pulled her to. She could only hope that the memories playing through her dreams would offer further insight to the truth or that the man in the coat of shadow would attempt to contact her again. Part of her was getting frustrated by the tantalizing pieces of knowledge dangling before her just out of reach, though. As the bearer of the Breaker Gorgon, she wasn't exactly concerned about someone invading her dreams with malicious intent. With a thought she could trap any mental assailant in a nightmare of her own design. It would seem that the only thing to do about it was learn as much as she could about her orange-haired Master. That would only come with time, so she focused her attentions on the plan of attack the group had established over the last few days.

The first order of business was decided to be a catalog of Masters and Servants that would be compiled out in the field. After that, the issue would be to confront them carefully and ascertain their motivations. Those with wicked intent would have their Servants put to the sword, and from that point it was up in the air.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the clear voice of her roommate. "Morning, Rider," Tatsuki grunted through a stretch.

"Good morning," Rider returned. Tatsuki was one of those rare "morning people," largely due to karate, and Rider's status as a Servant meant that sleep was both largely unnecessary and able to be shaken off in an instant. Naturally, both were able to get up and start the day without dragging their feet, unlike Orihime or Chad.

Rider settled into one of the overly comfortable chairs and pulled out the third book Ichigo had leant her, "Romeo and Juliet." She flipped it open and instantly threw herself into the play without a word.

Tatsuki simply shook her head at the Servant before grabbing her mp3 player and lacing up her shoes for her morning jog. It always looked incredibly weird seeing someone read with a blindfold on. Tatsuki had even quizzed her on the play, and seeing her hold up the book and read a passage stunned her stupid. Since then, she had simply left the woman to her reading, knowing that Rider preferred to immerse herself in the text until Ichigo called her. With the exception of Kon, whom she took special care avoid or silence with perfectly timed kicks, she tended to ignore everyone else when there was a book in her lap. "See ya later. I'll be back," she waved casually as she headed out to the elevator.

* * *

Across the bridge in an estate far too large for its lone occupant, another one of those rare "morning people" had already started his day quite literally at the crack of dawn. Shirou Emiya had begun the day like any other, going through an exercise routine devised in the absence of his adoptive father before rushing to the kitchen to playfully argue with his friend's little sister, Sakura Matou, over who would cook breakfast before their over-energetic teacher and older sister figure, Taiga Fujimura, popped in to enjoy the meal and mess around prior to school. The morning ritual made for a lively atmosphere in the otherwise depressingly empty mansion.

At the moment, Shirou was immersed in his morning exercise routine, having already prepared breakfast and trying not to think about what his "sixth sense" had been telling him over the last few days. It was getting harder to ignore, though. Something was happening in Fuyuki. He hadn't seen much evidence aside from the recent spike in accidents lately, but the air felt different; heavier. He could ignore it for the most part, but during his training, during those white-hot moments when the artificial Magic Circuit slid into place, something… else came in with the mana that coursed along his nerves. It was potent and… something different. He couldn't put words to it, but it wasn't like the mana he usually picked up for his thaumaturgy, the energy of the world. This force seemed more… personal, almost like the inner well of energy, the odo.

He was well aware that this made no sense, but there wasn't another explanation that could even _begin_ to describe what he was feeling. Such thoughts were quickly drowned out by Sakura's sweet and soft voice once he returned from the estate's dojo. "Good morning, Senpai. Have you finished preparing breakfast already?" the plum-haired girl inquired with a pleasant expression.

Shirou was more than happy for the company, this little family bond they shared along with Fujimura. "Yeah. All that's left is to cook the fish and set the table."

Sakura gave a cheerful smile that would likely make most of the men at school swoon with her growing beauty. "I'll help then. Let me get the dishes."

Another voice, an older but no less cheerful one, made itself known from behind Sakura. "Oh, so that's what I'm smelling: Shirou's omelet," a short-haired young woman `in her mid-twenties piped up, making her way slowly to the table. Taiga Fujimura was dressed in a yellow striped long sleeved shirt and a green skirt that draped over her shoulders that ended at her calves. As with every morning, she patiently (or not so much, but she could endure the wait for such a good meal) waited for the two teens to bring their breakfast to the table.

While Sakura and Shirou prepped the dishes, Shirou spotted something around the younger girl's wrist that stopped him in his work. "Sakura, where did you get that bruise?" he asked slowly, though he already had his suspicions. The way Sakura turned her head awkwardly told him enough. If it was one thing Shirou could not -would not- stand for, it was the mistreatment of others, a sentiment that strained his friendship with Shinji Matou after finding out about his abusive tendencies towards innocent little Sakura. When confronted, Shinji's blasé attitude about it earned him a full-strength punch. "Shinji… how dare he! Looks like he hasn't had enough of my fist," he growled.

Immediately, his "little sister" snapped her gaze to him, eyes wide and pleading. "S-senpai, it wasn't my brother! I just… slipped and fell earlier; I am a little slow," she lied, though Shirou's expression remained stern and that fire was still in his eyes.

"Don't cover for him! There is no way a bruise like that can come from a fall!" though his voice wasn't loud, the emotion behind his words was like a rumbling volcano.

"Please don't hurt him, he didn't do anything," she pleaded. Her doe eyes overwhelmed the magus's building anger and his shoulders drooped.

"All right, I'll let it slide for now, but if I see another new bruise, I don't think I'll be able to hold myself back," Shirou sighed, defeated by her innocent gaze yet again.

Sakura turned her head awkwardly, but faced him again a moment later with a new topic. "Um, Senpai, I know I shouldn't pry, but why did you quit the archery club?"

The change in topic was neither unexpected nor unwelcome, so Shirou answered while he flipped the fish and brushed a little melted butter onto the cooked side. "Oh that? Well, between supporting myself at my part-time jobs and my shoulder, I just couldn't set aside time to the club anymore." As a teen living on his own, Shirou normally received a monthly allowance that covered most of the bills in the house. He was indeed thankful that his teacher set aside time to help him sort and pay said bills.

As for his shoulder, Shirou was in an accident the previous year during a stocking day at one of his part-time jobs which dislocated his shoulder. While not serious enough to cause any long-term damage, the shipment contained hazardous chemicals that left an angry burn scar on his right shoulder. In his school's archery club, male shooters were expected to fire formally, slinging off their right sleeve and baring their shoulder during competition. A scarred shoulder was not something a formal archer should have: it displayed a carelessness that was unbefitting a serious contender. While he was a half-decent shot in his own mind (others would call him the best archer the school had ever seen), he considered his scar an affront to the sport and quit to save the school from embarrassment.

At least, that's what he told himself.

"Oh. Oniisan seems to think that you left because of him… Um, do you think you'll ever come back?" Sakura asked softly.

Genuinely taking a moment to think about it, Shirou shrugged and started placing the fish on the plate in Sakura's hands. "I don't know, maybe when my workload drops some. Tell you what: I'll try my best to return before you graduate. Sound good?" he gave his junior a smile and put a hand on her shoulder

Sakura's expression lit up as she processed his answer and nodded vigorously enough to risk dropping the plate and the main dish of their breakfast.

The tender family moment was ruined when a plaintive call of a hungry Taiga wafting in almost pathetically, "Shirou-chaaaan! Hungryyyy!"

Both teens glanced in her direction and shook their heads in bemusement, Sakura giggling lightly before starting their morning meal with a hearty "itadakimasu."

Due to Sakura's archery practice and Fujimura being a teacher, both women left Shirou to wash the dishes before he departed to school. He rushed through them, fully intent on getting to class a few minutes early in case Issei needed him for something again. He slung his bag over his shoulder and departed, locking the gate behind him. Jogging past the intersection and making a sharp turn, he almost crashed into another young woman who was obviously a foreigner. She was tall, about as tall as he was, and had short, red hair and red-brown eyes. The woman's outfit consisted of a white button-up shirt and black slacks, topped with a black cardigan. Ever the polite one, Shirou bowed slightly in mid-stride. "Sorry, morning rush," he called back as the two swung out of the other's way.

"No harm done," the woman said before resuming her walk while Shirou continued his own walk to school at a more sedate pace.

* * *

"So, they moved up this street next…" Bazett murmured to herself as she made her way through Miyama, leaving the redhead behind, likely off to school. After a couple of days of food and rest, she was feeling much more like herself and opted to make productive use of her time. She had briefly entertained the notion of leaving back to Ireland before contacting the Association about her next job, but her personal sense of duty forbade her from leaving until the War was complete, even if she had to keep a low profile and avoid the church. Besides, the random discharges of magical energy had yet to abate, even though there was still no rhyme or reason to it. More than that, she was painfully curious now.

The timing of her arm miraculously restoring itself and those high school kids finding her was too perfect. If she were a betting woman, she would put her life savings and her Fraga inheritance down on one of them having a hand in it, no pun intended. Unfortunately for her inquiring mind, her circumstance at that time prevented her from observing any direct evidence, not that there would be much if any of the three teens were magi. However, if it was one thing the heir of the McRemitz line was good at, it was rune magic. Using a memory of the three people, Bazett was able to bastardize a _Berkana_ tracking rune and engrave it on a small stone. While far from ideal, when combined with the sight-enhancing _Kenaz_ rune spell the woman could faintly receive signals, like memories of the magical energy in the air that resonated with her desired targets, allowing her to retrace their steps. It was not a very practical combination of spells and could not be done with second-hand information, making it close to useless against most of the people that the Association sent her after.

Following this trail, the Irish woman took a moment at an intersection that the energy signature pooled at. It seemed that the three stopped here, likely to consult a map or convene about their day's plans. She veered off and continued into a more subdued section of the suburbs, noting that she was still a ways off from the shed she had been hiding in. A moment later, she found herself making as close to a beeline as feasible in these streets for the shed, like the group suddenly knew where it was and was aware of something important being there. Perhaps someone hinted at it? But who? Why?

Finally, she reached the shed, no closer to figuring out what the three were capable of. Part of her hoped that they would visit a specific house or visit noteworthy locales. Had they gone into a house, she could have ascertained an allegiance, or even picked up on the magical energy of a released spell. She got nothing. It was like someone tipped them off and set them to find her. Sighing, she erased her runes and moved back into Miyama proper before hailing a taxi and returning to Shinto. Her only hope for another clue would be a chance encounter with them or one of them calling in that favor she owed. Part of her doubted either option: neither of the girls seemed the type to randomly call in something like that, and the boy was an enigma that she didn't really feel obliged to aid.

As Bazett's taxi toted her across the bridge, she looked over the water into the sea, the morning sunlight hidden behind dull gray clouds. She briefly wondered how this place looked in spring, but dismissed her thoughts after crossing the bridge into Shinto. She would have simply retreated back to her hotel had she not spotted a familiar spiky mess of black hair on a girl that the car drove past.

In an amazing stroke of luck, it looked as if one of those "chance encounters" had dropped into her lap. As the car rolled by, she glanced back. Yep, it was Tatsuki Arisawa out for a morning jog. With a few quick words to the driver and a generous tip, Bazett had the man drop her off near a shopping district that was a few blocks down the road from where Tatsuki was jogging.

It was therefore a pleasant "coincidence" that Bazett left a store with a cup of coffee just when Tatsuki jogged up. "Oh, hello again, Arisawa-san," she greeted pleasantly after taking a sip. "What's got you up so early? I thought you didn't have classes while you were here."

Waving in greeting, the black belt karate enthusiast stopped next to the taller woman, taking a few deep, slow breaths before replying. "Yeah, but I've always gone on morning jogs. Helps keep me in shape for karate."

"I see. So, how's the project coming?" Bazett asked as she walked beside the girl. She was fully intent on her replies, looking for any clues on her or her friends' nature.

"Ah, don't remind me! This town's like trying to do both Kyoto and Tokyo at the same time!" Tatsuki groused.

"How so?"

"I mean, that bridge makes this place like two separate cities! One's all traditional and quiet, but this side is bustling and modern! Here I thought this would be a simple, get-in-get-out type of job, but no!" Tatsuki unburdened her frustration from the last few days in a short rant. "Phew, I needed that." In truth, she was just frustrated that nothing interesting had happened to her yet, leaving the fighter in her restless.

Bazett chuckled at the teen's explosion. "This town is a bit unique in that regard, isn't it?"

"You can say that again. Karakura Town's nice and stable by comparison."

The two walked side by side, sharing pointless small talk as Tatsuki meandered lazily towards the posh hotel she was staying at. "I gotta give my school credit: when they agree to these 'cultural enrichment' thingies, they milk it for all they can," she said with a grin while Bazett gawked at the hotel they entered.

'_Okay, now I _know_ something is up with these kids. How the hell did they get access to this kind of place on a school budget?'_ Bazett thought to herself before Tatsuki pulled out her cell phone and made a quick call. She was chatting with Orihime and simply asked about who was up and whether they had time to chat with Bazett for a bit. _'I'll need to do this carefully. If I play my cards right, I should have a chance to look in on their magical energy.'_

Her thoughts were interrupted by Tatsuki, who gave her a grin. "Orihime-chan and Chad are up and moving, so everyone else must be too. We were planning on taking a peek at Ryuudou Temple today, so they'll all be down in a minute."

Bazett took a moment to think about it and shrugged. "I've been there once or twice, so I know a few things. Mind if I come along?"

"I don't see a problem, and Orihime-chan will be giddy about it, so it's mainly up to the rest of us. Let's see… Chad won't mind, Ishida-san I dunno, Ichigo will probably glare then shrug, Rukia-chan will be happy with having someone who knows about the place tagging along…" she tallied off, not bothering on counting Rider: she usually kept her opinion to herself about simple things when Ichigo was around, that whole Master/Servant thing that pissed the deputy Soul Reaper off more than anything else.

The two girls meandered over to a lounge area at the back of the lobby, just around the corner from the penthouse's private elevator. "I'll be back in a few minutes; I need to shower and change. Orihime will be down in a sec." In reality, Tatsuki felt extremely self-conscious that she was staying in the penthouse with three boys in front of Bazett. Plus, if Kon was running around screaming his head off, it would cause WAY more problems than she was prepared to deal with.

When the girl disappeared, Bazett settled with a copy of the day's paper in one of the ridiculously comfortable chairs that littered the lounge. Scanning the local news, she frowned; another series of "gas leaks" had hospitalized eight people the previous night, and their prognosis was cloudy. To her, this meant one thing: some bastard was actively harvesting souls to empower their Servant, leaving barely enough life energy in the victims to survive in body, even if it would render them vegetative for at least a month at the very minimum. Most might never recover. Sighing, she flipped the page and settled for the wait, leaving the paper low enough to expose her distinctive red hair. A few minutes later, a familiar voice cut in to her thoughts, bringing the woman out of her reverie. She glanced up at Orihime, who favored her with a bright smile.

"Good morning, Bazett-san! You're looking much better today," she said happily.

Bazett nodded, returning the smile and greeting. She placed the newspaper of the end table and engaged in some small talk.

Up in the penthouse, Tatsuki found herself on the receiving end of several irked looks from the more experienced warriors. "What? I didn't reveal a thing!" she defended.

Uryu adjusted his glasses, saying "Maybe not, but how much do we actually know about McRemitz-san? The possibility exists that she is a magus. In fact, that may explain why she survived whatever attacked her. Her arm wasn't bleeding enough for such a grievous wound. If that is the case, she might be capable of sensing our spiritual pressure or worse, discern our nature. At the very least, she is a spiritually aware individual."

"The other problem is Rider: we know there will be at least six magi in the city, maybe more. If she is a magus, your friend might recognize her as a Servant," Ichigo added.

Surprisingly it was Rukia who sided with her. "Despite the risks involved, I don't think it would be a bad thing for her to join us. If she is a magus, we can use her spiritual pressure as a standard of comparison to find the others. If not, having someone with us could throw off any suspicion. You have to admit; we look pretty odd to anyone taking a more than casual look."

Rider looked up from her book. "If it's really a problem, Ichigo can astralize me and I can watch her without being seen."

That got the rest of the group's attention. "You can do that? Since when?" Ichigo asked.

"It's a normal ability for Servants. We sustain our physical bodies with our Master's magical energy. If you simply don't let any out, I'll fade into a ghost-like state and reduce the needed energy to a fraction until you begin releasing mana again," she explained.

At the explanation, Ichigo palmed his face. "Not happening. I actually have too much spirit energy for my body to contain; I can't turn it off even if I wanted to."

Uryu chuckled at a remarkably distant-feeling memory. "The last time something forcibly restrained his spiritual pressure, it was like trying to pinch a fire hose going full blast. Remember your first Gillian, Kurosaki?"

Ichigo paused briefly, then let out a bemused laugh of his own. "Man, that feels like ages ago. Hard to believe it hasn't even been a whole year yet."

Rukia smiled a little at their expressions and her own memory of the event. "Now, now, don't start reminiscing about the good ol' days like a pair of old men, you two. Anyway, I say we let Bazett-san join us."

Chad nodded. "I'll go tell Orihime," he said simply before striding to the elevator. He knew it was inevitable anyway.

Ichigo grumbled. "Alright, fine. So how do we introduce Rider? Can't exactly call her by her class; a magus might recognize it, and I doubt you want your true name out in the open."

Rider shifted to her disguise as she placed her book on the coffee table. She glanced back at it before shrugging. "I can go by the name Rosaline… Euryale. I can say that I am a chaperone for you."

Ichigo could easily pick up on the first name based on the book she was reading; Rosaline was Romeo's first love before he met Juliet, though she was never seen only mentioned. The last name though… he had never heard it before, but it seemed somehow familiar, like he should know it from somewhere. He shrugged it off and nodded. "Alright, you better finish getting ready." Ichigo meandered to the elevator where Chad was waiting, Rider a stride behind and Rukia just behind her. "Well, let's go meet this lady while the others finish up."

A minute later, the group exited the elevator and could easily pick out the distinct happy tones of Orihime engaged in small talk. Rounding the corner from the elevator into the lounge area, the quartet spotted the teen excitedly telling a tall red-head all about her life in Karakura, conspicuously leaving out the spiritual aspects. The woman in turn explained the differences between Ireland's mood and Japan's. Sensing them, Orihime turned to them and happily trotted over. "Bazett-san, these are the friends I told you about!"

"Ichigo Kurosaki," the orange haired boy offered a quick nod in place of a bow, his eyes locked on hers. Bazett returned the gesture somewhat stiffly. The teen had a sharp bearing that spoke of fierce battles, likely street fights, and a maturity that belied the punkish look his brightly colored hair implied. More to the point, the boy was practically glowing with power. If he was a trained magus, he likely could outclass her in a straight mystic duel with ease.

The small girl to his right smiled brightly and gave an energetic bow. "Nice to meet you, McRemitz-san! My name is Rukia Kuchiki," she replied, her voice sweet as sugar.

"Please, call me Bazett," the magus returned with a small smile. The girl was unremarkable in most ways, but her demeanor triggered the woman's intuition. There was more to her than it seemed.

"Sado Yasutora," the behemoth in the back rumbled in a deep baritone with a more formal bow. His introduction was brief, but was mellower than Ichigo's own greeting, coming off as humble rather than harsh.

Stepping forward from behind the giant form of Yasutora, a woman taller than Bazett herself appeared. "And I am their chaperone while they are here in Fuyuki. Rosaline Euryale at your service," the woman said, extending her hand in greeting.

Taking it and ignoring the tiny itch on her left hand, Bazett surreptitiously analyzed the lavender-haired woman. The hair alone was bizarre, but the color went straight to the roots. Her grip was strong, but nothing special, and her clothing was simple but classy. "A pleasure. Bazett Fraga McRemitz. Call me Bazett," she replied with a friendly smile, though her eyes were sharp and alert towards the chaperone.

Rider did her damnedest to sound like a responsible adult and faced her "charges." "Alright, once Arisawa-san and Ishida-san join us, we'll head to the bus stop. Make sure to pay special attention to any of the older structures and unique themes throughout the grounds," she explained. The group was good enough at this kind of deception to school the snickers building in the back of their throats. Rider had practically repeated verbatim what Rukia had said to do the previous night.

Tatsuki and Uryu joined them a moment later, the latter having stayed behind to print out a map of the temple from the Fuyuki Tourism Department's website. Tatsuki was now clean and dressed casually. "Ready when you are, guys," she called out cheerfully.

During the bus ride, Bazett tried to isolate and speak to "Rosaline," but Orihime was always cheerfully offering her stories and the most absurdly disturbing recipes that nearly killed her appetite just from the description. Thus, she got scant information aside from some preliminary opinions on the group. Chad was the strong, silent type, one that could probably take to the monastic life without a word of complaint. Rukia was still an enigma, but was extremely perceptive despite her outward naiveté. Uryu was impeccably polite and articulate, but almost snobbish by nature. Rosaline was very intelligent and quiet, the scholarly type. She wasn't sure what to make of Ichigo, who combined watching her like a hawk when she wasn't talking to him and casual indifference when addressed.

The trip and stay at Ryuudou was relatively uneventful, though Bazett slowly learned a little more about the teens and their relationship. True to her word, Bazett shared her knowledge of the temple, particularly the legend that explained this place's origin. Of course, the fact that the legend was completely true, including the part about a dragon that used to live in the river being the founder, never crossed the teens' minds.

On their end, the visitors from Karakura felt uneasy for some reason. Sure, they managed to get close enough to get a feel for Bazett's spiritual pressure: it was either suppressed or dormant, but still reasonably strong, more so than any non-spiritually aware human, anyway. However, something in the air of the temple unnerved them. Ichigo's scowl had become pensive almost immediately after they passed through the gates and Rukia's expression had hardened at the same time. Even Tatsuki, the least sensitive to spiritual pressure of the group, felt like something was wrong with the atmosphere in this supposedly peaceful temple. Uryu silently pulled out his map and wrote a quick note before folding it back up.

After returning to Miyama, the Karakura group split up from the Irish woman, who could only smile at them. Somehow, the teens had developed a bond that bordered on familial. From all appearances, Ichigo was the lynchpin of the group; the perpetually scowling and short-tempered boy was their de facto leader or at least bridged the wide gaps between his friends' personalities. It was one of those examples of a naturally magnetic individual. As much as she knew she shouldn't involve herself with them, she found it too hard to resist. Orihime and Tatsuki were genuinely good people who had no idea how badly timed their trip was. They didn't need to involve themselves in the Holy Grail War, but the chances of them getting caught in the crossfire were too high to ignore. Every single member of the group had strong souls. Any Servant would receive an impressive boost to their strength from one, and all seven of them together were practically inviting Servants to a full-course restaurant.

Naturally, she couldn't bring herself to ignore them and etched _Berkana_ runes tied to each of them when she had a moment to herself. After all, she still was no closer to solving the mystery of her arm, and they may need her protection in the future, right? Her burgeoning friendship with the girls had also managed to net her the cell phone numbers of Tatsuki and Orihime.

* * *

Later that night, Rukia, Ichigo and Rider hopped along the rooftops in Miyama while the others took Shinto for their patrol. Uryu opted to explore Ryuudou once they gathered more information on the place. It wouldn't exactly do them any good if a Servant and Master trapped them there with no intelligence to draw from. Eventually, they arrived at the local high school, the closed grounds serving as quite the ideal meeting place for the empowered souls. "Quiet night again," Ichigo sighed.

Taking a moment to think about it, Rider glanced at her Master. "Considering the consequences of your duties, you would think this would be a good thing."

Rukia shook her head. "Normally, yes. Unfortunately, considering what happens when Hollows get quiet, it usually means we need to be on our guard."

"I see. The calm before the storm, as it were."

"Good analogy," Ichigo praised off-handedly before his brow furrowed.

"You sense it too, huh? Let's go," Rukia said coldly.

Rider noted the shift in demeanor and followed their gazes. "A Hollow?"

"No, but it is a foreign spiritual pressure. We better check it out."

"It's too far out to just run there. You go on ahead, I'll be right behind you," Ichigo said, his eyes never losing their focused edge.

With a nod, Rukia vanished in a Shunpo, stunning Rider. "Was that… pure speed?"

Ichigo shook his head as he approached Rider. "Not like running, no. It's a special technique Soul Reapers can do. Hang on to me; I'm going to do the same thing so we don't fall behind."

Rider thought about it and wrapped her slender arms around his neck while Ichigo slipped an arm around her waist. She smugly pretended to ignore his slight blush at the close contact. "Let's go," the Soul Reaper hero said before vanishing from sight. Had they remained on the roof for another twenty seconds, they would have crossed paths and blades with an increasingly irate Servant in blue.

When he came to a stop, barely a second behind Rukia, Rider was effectively stupefied at the display. He didn't even look winded! Sure, she was capable of speed that far exceeded anything alive on her own, but _that_… that was unreal! What other kinds of powers did Soul Reapers have? "Ichigo," she said levelly.

"Yeah?" he replied without taking his eyes off of the house that the spiritual pressure was originating, his hand having long since released her.

"Would it be possible to learn that speed technique for myself?"

The taller Soul Reaper scratched his head. "No clue… maybe. Anyway, we can discuss it later. Any ideas on what's going on, Rukia?"

The petite Reaper brought a hand to her chin. "I'm… not sure, but I've never felt this kind of disturbance before."

With all the subtlety of a brick, Rider told them what was most likely going on. "A Servant is extracting the residents' life energy. Unless the Servant is inside, I don't know how to stop it."

Both Soul Reapers turned to her with horrified looks. "Damn! Are you sure there's no way to protect them?" Ichigo's fist clenched tighter than his jaw after that statement.

"I don't know. If you knew where the Servant was, you could attack it, which cancels the feeding instantly," Rider explained while tilting her head up at the house's second story. "Are your Command Seals hurting in any way?"

"…No. Crap! That means their doing it from a distance, right?" Rider's nod made Ichigo want to pick a fight with Renji or Ikkaku to get the tension out.

Rukia closed her eyes and tried to gather a spirit ribbon of the attacking energy. To the Soul Reapers' eyes, a field of silken ribbons manifested around Rukia's feet, each flitting about in an invisible current. Two red ribbons, a single lavender ribbon and innumerable white ones slithered through the air, each representing a soul. And above them, a single, dark purple, almost black ribbon was coiling around a few of these strands, devouring them. The indigo-eyed girl lifted her left hand to touch it; once her fingers wrapped around the ribbon, she would be able to track the source easily. However, this ribbon seemed to react to her hand, pulling away of its own accord. Rukia's finger briefly touched the ribbon before it slithered out of reach. The ribbon flared with magical energy and released what sounded like and angry hiss, like ice water landing on hot steel.

She snapped her hand back with a cry, her fingers brutally burned by what seemed to be the slightest of touches with the feeding ribbon, although the contact did cause the ribbon to dissolve, leaving the feeding unfinished. Understandably, Ichigo rushed over to the girl, who was curled over her smoking hand. "What happened? Are you alright?"

"Do I look alright, you colossal buffoon? That spirit ribbon tried to devour my hand!" she nearly screamed.

"Huh?"

Rukia displayed her hand, which looked like someone had washed it in sulfuric acid. She was already treating it, her other hand glowing green with healing Kido. "I'll have Orihime take a look at it when we meet up again," she hissed through the obvious pain.

"Go on back and take care of that; Rider and I will wrap up patrol tonight," Ichigo offered.

"But-" Rukia started before Rider, who had been silently observing the whole event, put a hand on her small shoulder.

"Would you prefer it if we escorted you back? We can resume patrol once you are safe at the penthouse." Having been around Ichigo for these last days had taught Rider that the boy placed his friends before himself, and it only fit that she should show some of that protectiveness.

"Not a bad idea. I'll take Kon along in case something goes wrong, too," Ichigo insisted.

Rukia could only sigh at that. With her hand temporarily useless, she could only agree to their terms. While the trio performed a withdrawal from Miyama, Rider proved her speed once more by keeping pace with the two Soul Reapers; though neither had slipped into Shunpo, they moved as fast as a car on the freeway, easily covering the distance between the two sections of the city in minutes. Rather than damage her gigai by bringing her still badly burned hand with her into it, Rukia opted to call Orihime and take time to relax. Understandably frustrated, she took to sulking in a chair, her good hand not losing its green glow to dull the pain of her other hand.

Ichigo's body had its keeper evicted and returned to its plushy form. "Every dang time! I can't enjoy a minute without you popping me out like you own the thing!" the mod soul groused.

"…I do own it," Ichigo deadpanned. Kon crossed his puffy arms and gave an angry huff before Ichigo grabbed his head and tucked the toy under his arm. Amidst Kon's indignant protests, the deputy Reaper meandered to the elevator. Rider followed, though she didn't bother to switch to her disguise. Naturally, this made Ichigo a might bit uncomfortable now that he was idle in an elevator, but a part of him did have to admit that she looked incredible, and that in turn shut up Kon nicely.

"So… since I'm going to be using my body for this part of the patrol, I'm going to need you to keep an eye from the rooftops," Ichigo said, keeping the majority of his thoughts on business.

Rider nodded silently. "I take it you hope to lure a Servant out as bait?"

"Something like that. Since it's after curfew, I should be a pretty irresistible target."

"And Kon?"

"Insurance. If another Servant tries to take advantage, I can use his pill to have my body escape while we beat or capture them."

Kon growled, but didn't say anything coherent. Was it so wrong to want to use Ichigo's body without life and limb risks involved, or to seek female attention? It wasn't like Strawberry ever bothered with the opposite sex, save to be Mr. Hero. Such a waste…

* * *

While Ichigo returned to the streets to perform his riskier patrol method, Shirou Emiya was just finishing up with the archery range. Having been requested by Shinji to clean the place and repair some of the older equipment. Shirou knew that Shinji just didn't want to do his own work, but the redhead was a firm believer that helping people was its own reward. "Phew! And that's that." Pleased that his hard work had paid off, he packed up his bag and finally turned out the lights. Glancing at the clock, he almost choked. It was well after ten, closer to eleven! "Damn. At least I didn't leave anyone waiting for me," he said to himself. Something was happening tonight to keep Sakura home, and Taiga was visiting her relatives. His trek home was going to be a long, almost lonely one, but he didn't mind.

He had barely left the archery range when the sound of metal striking metal hit his ears along with the scrabbling of dirt. Something in the air filled him with dread, but he couldn't help but wonder what was happening. He planted his back firmly against the wall of the main building and sidled forward. A tight ball of dread formed in his chest, making breathing suddenly rather difficult. Sweat broke out on his brow despite the winter chill in the air, only getting worse the closer he slipped to the clashing blades. Taking a slow, steadying breath, he peeked around the corner into the school's open courtyard. _'What the…?'_

Two people, one dressed in red and the other in blue, were tearing at each other in a dizzying display of speed and inhuman skill, murderous intent filling the air with a morbid sensation similar to choking on one's own blood. A few seconds later, the pair split apart, giving Shirou a clear view of the man in blue, whose crimson spear looked like it was painted with blood in his hands, and the back of the swordsman. _'Who… who are those people? Are they even human?'_ Too far away to hear and exchanged words of the two gladiators, Shirou still found it impossible to tear his eyes away like his instincts demanded.

When the man in blue shifted his stance, Shirou nearly choked on air. The moment the blade in the blue-clad warrior's hands began to shake, he was hit by a terrifying realization, like an epiphany.

The man in red was going to die. That intrinsic fact had imbedded itself into Shirou's consciousness. Fear bubbled up in his throat, and in that single moment, his mind racing with thoughts of running, his shifting foot ground against a twig and snapped it loudly enough to send him running at top speed. Horror suffused him at the knowledge that he had seen something he shouldn't have, and he could practically feel the spearman's killing drive nipping at his heels, prompting him to run even faster.

* * *

Once the initial shock of Lancer's sudden departure left them, Rin Tohsaka and her Servant took off in hot pursuit. Oh, she knew there was no chance of catching the most agile of Servants on her own, but that didn't mean she could just let him run off like that! He might have a hand in the strangeness going on in _her_ city these last few days!

That got Rin thinking: if she connected all of the points where the energy had been leaving these trace fields, what would it be? Was the caster building a huge magic circle with the whole city as a base? To figure that out, she'd need to mark every point it stopped at. Easier said than done, but her stubbornness had her marking points on a fold-up map while giving Archer a tour of the city. When she sensed the massive flow of mana from her high school's roof, Rin wasted no time trying to catch the source in action. Archer had pointed out that charging in might not be the best idea, and in hindsight, the cynical jerk was probably right.

Frustration made her reckless, and she kept going even when the energy source moved on, vanishing in an instant. Of course, her instincts had her follow through, and she declined Archer's protests in favor of poking her nose onto the roof. Unfortunately they found the roof still occupied. By a Servant, no less. Archer had agreed to fight the man, leading to a short blade dance that had mesmerized her completely. She cursed herself again, knowing that if she had paid slightly more attention, she would have noticed the spectator before it was too late.

Up on the third floor, Rin spotted her Servant looking down at the bloody body of a boy leaning against the wall between two windows. "Archer, go after Lancer, see if you can at least figure out where he's going," she ordered hurriedly, fighting of the nausea that was building in her stomach and throat. Nodding once, Archer hurried off, leaving Rin alone with the almost completely dead witness. In the moonlight, she couldn't see many details other than that he was dressed in this school's uniform. "Stupid… what were you doing out here at this time of night?" she whispered to the dying boy. "The least I can do is see your face and send you off peacefully," she whispered.

Her delicate fingers gently tilted the boy's chin and looked square into his dull but barely living eyes. She nearly leaped back in shock, an unknown swell of emotion crashing through her. "Oh God, why did it have to be you? What the hell is wrong with you?" she choked, her fists squeezed painfully tight. "Damn you… I can't fix this! You moron…" she continued to curse the boy even as she examined his wound. She almost gave up and left, had not a small gem poked her in the thigh when she shifted her weight.

Rin reached into her skirt and pulled out a pentagonal gemstone inset in a silver carved amulet. This stone was meant to be her trump card, a massive reservoir of magical energy for her to use when things became desperate. The amount of power stored in this small stone was roughly the equivalent of ten years of the amount she produced daily. Yes, with this, she had the power to repair a dying man's destroyed heart to full functionality and kick-start it without killing him. There was no hesitation, and with a mumbled command, she released the vast reservoir of magic directly into the boy's chest, mending his body and setting him into a gentle sleep. He'd wake up soon, but it would give her time to escape without being seen.

In her hurry, she left the depleted pendant behind.

A half an hour later, pain stabbed through Shirou's chest as he was jerked into full wakefulness. "What… I'm alive?" he mumbled to himself as he gingerly prodded his bloody uniform. The hole was still there, as was a dry bloodstain, confirming that he was supposed to be dead. Pain and a sick sensation sloshed through him, as though proving the fact he was still, or perhaps once more, among the living. The only clue was the silver amulet at his feet. Almost in a trance, he picked it up and slipped it into his pocket. The hallway was silent, reminding him that he was alone now, and he had no intention of sticking around. Despite that sentiment, he stared at the bloody floor and soon found himself mopping it up mindlessly. Maybe it was to remind himself that he was alive and take his mind off of the last events he could clearly recall, but he refused to leave until the worst of it was cleaned up.

* * *

Ichigo, clad in a warm coat to hold off against the chill, meandered almost lazily through the streets of Miyama, looking for all the world like he was out for a meaningless, potentially dangerous stroll. He knew Rider was nearby through their contract, and Kon was stuffed under his coat, quiet due to actually being warm, though he did see fit to tell him, "I'd be a lot more content if you let Rider-san hold on to me."

Ichigo's death glare silenced any further suggestions.

He had been wandering the streets of the suburbs for the last hour, having taken almost as long to get here in the first place. He passed an intersection that led to several of Miyama's landmarks, including the high school and the temple. He opted to go east, almost ready to call it a night. As he passed into a more open spot closer to the bridge, he spotted someone staring at the moon from a swing at a nearby park. Normally, he'd play dumb and stroll on by until confronted, but looking at the figure gave him pause. To his spiritually attuned eyes, the figure looked to be practically _glowing_ with spiritual power. It wasn't spiritual pressure weighing down on him; it would be better described as the figure having way more spirit energy in it than should be contained, like its entire body was made of condensed spirit particles.

Carefully so as not to make unnecessary noise, he pulled out his deputy badge from his pocket and unbuttoned the coat, quietly kicking Kon out of his plush body and the pill into his waiting hand. Redoing his coat, he started walking again, the pill dropping into the pocket opposite his badge. With his hands hidden as he continued walking, Ichigo surreptitiously glanced at the figure, looking for any signs of being an enemy.

The figure was a young girl, no older than thirteen at best, her features European and elegant. If her skin was any paler, she could be considered an albino, crimson eyes gazing happily at the moon beneath her long, white hair. Most of her was hidden by a long, purple coat that reached almost to her ankles, and her head was topped by a matching cap. He strolled casually past, only to stop when the girl's voice reached him with a light, chiming tone that reminded him of Yuzu. "Good evening, oniichan."

Hidden on a rooftop nearby, Rider dropped herself on to all fours and glided forward sinuously, her body tensing in case of attack. Something was off with this picture, and she wasn't about to let her Master be ambushed so obviously.

Turning with a confused frown, Ichigo found the little girl smiling at him like she was a long-lost relative or something. "Uh, yeah. Evening. What're you doing out here in the middle of the night?"

The girl giggled at him. "I could ask you the same thing, oniichan. But before that," she gave a delicate curtsy, "Illyasviel von Einzbern. It is a pleasure to meet you."

"Ichigo Kurosaki."

Again the girl giggled merrily. "'Strawberry?' What a cute name!"

Understandably, the orange-haired teen's eyebrow twitched despite the growing knot in his stomach warning him of danger. "Hey! 'Ichi' means 'one,' and 'Go' means guardian! It means 'one who protects!'"

"It also means 'one' and 'five,'" she playfully countered. "I know it's late, but why don't we play a game?" she practically danced up to him, her large ruby eyes looking up into his amber ones.

Now he knew something was off. Trying to play off his suspicions and get some distance, he poked her forehead, lightly pushing it back like he would any small child. "Maybe some other time, kid. Why don't you head on home? I bet mommy and daddy are worried by now."

No sooner had the words left his mouth that his Command Seals began to burn, and he noted the dark fury behind those seemingly innocent eyes as she stepped back, adjusting her cap. "…Fine! If you won't play, then I'll just kill you! Berserker, crush him!"

"Crap!" Ichigo barely had time to jump back before a mountain of muscle seemed to drop from on high onto where his head once was. A long, low, bestial roar tore through the air.

* * *

Eventually, Shirou staggered home, relief flooding his system in a cool wave as he locked the gate behind him. He mechanically tottered into his living room, barely having the presence of mind to turn on the lights as he plopped down onto the floor, utterly drained. It was now after midnight. "…I wonder who saved me. If I ever meet them, I at least want to say thanks," he mumbled, still barely cognizant of his surroundings as he pondered his spontaneous resurrection.

As he sat against the wall, he allowed his mind to drift, trying to understand how he could be still alive after being run through the heart with a barbed spear. Hell, just thinking about it brought back the sickening sensation of the spearhead in his chest. "Damn. I'm going to have nightmares about this for months…" he muttered while he mustered all of his discipline to calm down.

'_What on earth happened back there?'_ he thought as his tired mind recalled the battle. _'Those two… they were really trying to kill each other! And those weapons…'_ he didn't know how to describe it, but those two fighters could not possibly be human and their weapons weren't normal in any fashion. None of his attempts to figure out what he had seen could sooth his fears and confusion.

Those thoughts were blown out of his head by the lights flicking off and the innocuous clattering of a strategically placed wooden bell in the ceiling.

That bell was tied directly to the Boundary Field his adoptive father had placed on the property. While it did nothing to deter intruders, it did warn him if someone came onto the grounds with any sort of malicious intent. His father was quite proud of the Field, stating that it was both accurate and subtle, and would take an extremely powerful magus with way too much time on their hands to remove it.

He couldn't think of anyone who would be after him though, save… _'Wait, what did that spearman say?'_

"_Sorry about this, but rules are rules. Rest in peace."_

'_I saw something I shouldn't have, and was killed for it… now that I'm alive…'_ he thought frantically.

Startled but unwilling to risk letting a sound leave his throat, Shirou silently curled onto the balls of his feet. For the sake of defense, he scanned the room for a weapon. Of course, he wasn't lucky enough have something lying around save for a metal tube. The tube was a container for a limited edition poster Fuji-nee brought here the previous morning. He had found out the hard way that the damn thing was made of solid metal. Right now though, it would be perfect. "Trace…on," he intoned, the self-suggestion allowing him to channel his magic through the item in his hands. "Basic structure: analyze," he whispered, a wire model containing all of the information on the tube's structure down to the atomic level filling his mind's eye. "Basic quality: reinforce," he continued, pumping his meager mana into the item, bolstering its durability. "Trace: off." With that, Shirou finished his spell, returning to full awareness. Even though he was proud of the fact he got the normally tricky spell off, he couldn't exactly think about it, not when an intruder was in his home.

Shirou didn't have time to think further on it as a surge of murderous intent hit him, causing his spine to conveniently replace itself with a rod of ice. He barely reacted in time, throwing himself towards the opposing wall and rolling to face his attacker. Blue armor, dark hair in a ponytail, crimson eyes and a spear of the same color: his killer had already tracked him down?

"Well, redhead, you turned out to be a whole new kind of pain in the ass. Never had to kill a guy twice in the same day before," he said with a bored expression. "Now do me this one favor and keep still: it'll hurt less for ya that way," he grunted while bringing his spear in a lightning-fast thrust.

With no time to think, Shirou took a feverish gamble, his hand wrapping around the poster tube and swung it with all his might, successfully parrying the crimson weapon. "Huh?" the attacker eyed his makeshift weapon before smiling with an almost feral glint in his eyes. "Oh… that's an interesting trick you got there, kid. Looks like you're a magus, am I right?" The redheaded magus-in-training kept himself steady despite the cold realization that he had no chance against this guy without some serious divine intervention. If he could make it to the shed, he likely could dig something up to even the odds a little.

"Looks like I might get one more chance for some good ol' fashioned fun!" the blue-clothed fighter grinned savagely as he rained blows on Shirou's desperate defense, pounding the Reinforced metal into a dented mess. The worst part was that it was painfully obvious that he was playing around. "Good, boy! How about this one?" he shouted as he swung his polearm in a massive strike that literally blew Shirou out of the window he had purposefully backed himself against. The spearman came through an instant after, his spear already in motion.

Shirou needed some distance, and he saw one chance. Planting his back foot into the grass, he pushed up with both arms still gripping his rapidly weakening weapon and threw his full power behind one swing. "Don't… take me so lightly!" he roared just as the canister slammed into the crimson spear, the impact sufficient to actually send the spear spiraling into the air, where it stabbed into the ground several meters behind the man in blue. The marauder glanced at the spear, but didn't exactly seem too bothered by being disarmed. Shirou knew that it was now or never, but wouldn't dare take his eyes off of his killer. He took one step back, the first in a furious bid to get into the shed.

His opponent returned his gaze to his target and smiled almost like a friend. "Fly," he said with a feral grin and suddenly disappeared from sight, disrupted grass the only sign he had actually moved. In the instant it took Shirou to notice the act, his vision was filled with his opponent's form, already midway through a brutal roundhouse kick that sent him flying through the yard, spitting out a mouthful of blood and disarming him of his bent weapon as he hit a wall. Somehow, that man had kicked him a good twenty meters in one blow!

The lance came at him again, Shirou's knees giving out in a fit of that "divine intervention" he needed, allowing him to fall into the shed as the force of the missed strike slammed the door open. Scrambling back a few meters, Shirou could only weakly stare at his killer through his blurry vision.

"Checkmate, kid. You got some skill and guts, I'll give you that. Looks like you're too young, though. Heh, you might have been the seventh," he said casually. "Too bad. After my last big scuffle with a Master, I hoped maybe a few more like _him_ would be joining the game," he said, more to himself than to Shirou. Having said his piece, the killer brought his spear forward.

Like all who experience death, time seemed to slow down for the teen, who couldn't accept that he was going to die again. He had been saved once already, and just like that, the same man comes after him and kills him again. The sheer unfairness of dying twice in one day in the exact same manner is infuriating. After everything he had managed to live through, after everything he had endured to approach the ideal of a hero of justice, he was going to die like he was nothing more than an insect. _'Damn it… I… I won't be killed… by someone like you!'_ he mentally screamed, his body too weak to react to the incoming weapon.

In that instant, something changed. The air seemed to explode in a spontaneous typhoon and a blinding light, which lashed out at the spearman, deflecting his lance in a shower of sparks. "Oh damn it, not again! I already dealt with this crap before!" the spearman snarled as he was pushed back by a quick barrage of strong swings from the typhoon's center, forcing him to withdraw into the moonlit yard. Shirou could only stare speechlessly at the woman who had literally appeared before him, saving his life.

She was an almost otherworldly vision of grace and regal beauty. Golden hair done up in a bun and braid, held in place by a blue ribbon, framed a lovely face with intense green eyes, like shining emeralds. She was clad in a blue and white dress that combined a ballroom gown with knightly armor, with silver plates along her hips. Silver gauntlets and an elaborately designed cuirass cover her arms and torso, and her feet are girded with polished greaves, each plate of armor so perfect that they almost looked chrome. The dress was a regal blue, with puffed-out shoulders and a flaring skirt. Her expression was stern, but noble, calmly locking Shirou's eyes with her own.

"I ask of you: are you my Master?"


	7. Of Souls and Swords: Part II

AN: Phew! What a way to finish a quarter! After three weeks of absolute madness, I bring to you all the next chapter of Fate/Stay Bleach! These chapters just seem to get longer and longer, don't they? As always, I'm always eager to hear everyone's thoughts, so please review or PM me with thoughts, questions and ideas.

I'd like to quickly thank everyone who reviewed, encouraged, or just simply favorited my first story. Everyone who's offered advice, asked questions and all that, thank you.

Lastly, I do not own BLEACH or Fate/Stay Night. I'm just borrowing them for an improbable but enjoyable story.

_Of Souls and Swords: Part II_

"What the hell is that thing?" Ichigo breathed as the beast's thunderous roar blew away the dust its arrival had created. The monstrous creature was human, or might have been at one point long ago, but now the… thing before him was twisted, warped into a grotesque mockery of its former shape. It wouldn't be too far off to think of the behemoth as Yammy's long-lost little brother. Heavily muscled yet balanced by his tall frame, there was no doubt this monster was agile as well as strong. The giant's skin looked to be made out of brownish lead, two dull, black metallic protrusions sweeping backwards from his elbows like rocky crags, furthering the inhuman impression. The monster's hair was as black as pitch and shaggy, falling behind his snarling face, one eye the molten gold of a forge's heart while the other blazed like a crimson star. Despite creating a crater on impact and standing at the bottom of it, the thing was still taller than Ichigo himself, making it almost as immense as Sajin Komamura. Though not quite as much of a giant as the captain or the Cero Espada, the sense of overwhelming, unreasoning rage the Servant exuded made the air thick and heavy, making him more intimidating by leagues. The titan only wore black bracers, heavy anklets and an armored skirt or kilt that encircled his waist.

'This _is Berserker? Holy damn!'_ Ichigo backpedalled to a safer distance as the giant stepped out from the crater, easily hefting a massive stone axe-club roughly the size of Zangetsu like it was a mere feather. No underlying motivations shone through the giant's mismatched eyes, only madness and killing intent, a depthless fury promising slaughter to all who crossed its path.

Far from breaking beneath Berserker's stare like lesser beings, Ichigo stood firm, a veteran of worse monsters, including ones that hid behind less imposing facades. Far greater enemies had faced him, and he had stood victorious time and time again. This would be no different. Shock gave way to his neutral expression, an almost bored scowl.

A high, childish voice cut through the still air. "You'd better call your Servant, Onii-san! …Otherwise… _Berserker will simply crush you_!" Ilya giggled gleefully, as though this were nothing more than a schoolyard game. Her eyes, however, mimicked her Servant in their unreasoning anger. She wanted Ichigo's corpse shredded in a haze of crimson, and her Servant was more than ready to oblige her desire to paint the park with his blood.

Ichigo pulled out Kon's pill from his pocket and tossed it into his mouth without as much as a twinge of fear touching his face. As soon as he swallowed, his soul was freed from his body, battle-ready. To any normal person, it simply looked like Ichigo staggered and then changed his expression from an irritated scowl to sheer terror once he laid eyes on Berserker's massive, snarling form.

"PLEASE tell me you don't want me to fight that thing," Kon whimpered at the looming form of the titan as it advanced methodically, its eyes shifting quickly between Ichigo's soul form and his suddenly cowering body. Some tiny part of its expression hinted at confusion. A small glimmer reminded him that the soul should not be able to separate and maintain form while the body lived, but the giant didn't really care one way or the other. Reason was an alien concept to Berserker, the only driving impulse to smash them both into a bloody slurry.

"Kon, run. Retreat. Get the hell out of here as fast as you can. Rider, cover him until it's safe," Ichigo ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument as the cloth around Zangetsu unfurled and retracted like a serpent under its own power the moment his fingers closed around the grip. Not bothering to wait for a response, he hefted the cleaver over his shoulder.

He was so intent on Berserker that he didn't notice Illyasviel look square at him, the fury giving way to confusion. _'What just happened? Onii-san… split in two?'_

From her hidden position, Rider's eyes widened at her Master's command. _'That's… insanity,'_ Was Ichigo completely out of his mind? That Servant obviously outclassed her in terms of raw power by several orders of magnitude! Was Ichigo actually intending to fight Berserker, a Heroic Spirit in a league of his own, _alone_?

She almost choked on her own tongue when he leveled his sword in a ready stance. He really intended to fight, and surely die beneath Berserker's overwhelming fury. She didn't dare reveal herself, but this was one order she couldn't obey. Something stopped her from moving, as if telling her that staying was the best course of action. Ichigo hadn't used a Command Spell, but this intuition rooted her in place, though she couldn't reason out why she suddenly felt that way.

Kon only hesitated for a moment before frantically tearing off, his inhumanly enhanced leg strength letting him leap up to the nearest roof, landing a few yards from the conflicted Servant. Her position and the angle he had of her out on the roof was, to Kon, almost obscenely sexy, prompting a tiny trickle of blood to come out of his nose before the gravity of the situation reasserted itself, forcing the lecherous soul to flatten himself against the roof and crawl up beside Rider, his toes digging in for a leap if necessary.

"Man, why does Ichigo always gotta do this kinda thing?" he complained quietly. He really wanted to run, but if something happened, he didn't want to be caught by another Servant or a Hollow, or worse, both. Turning to Rider in a bid for conversation to ease the tension, his words dropped back into his throat at her expression.

Rider's face was mostly still, but only because so many emotions were at war on it, each trying to tug her expression in a different direction. Even without seeing her eyes behind that blindfold of hers, he could easily see the grim line her mouth had set itself into, and the way her entire body tensed and relaxed, as though fighting with itself between moving and staying still. If she were holding her weapons, she likely would be squeezing them hard enough to leave finger impressions. She occasionally bit her lip and released it, while her breathing was deep and shaky, betraying more emotions than she ever seemed to show before. She looked angry, scared, confused, concerned, disbelieving, and much more besides all hammered together into an incomprehensible mess. Awed and now even more tense, Kon opted to keep his mouth shut for once, turning back to the field where it seemed like hours had gone by with the two warriors sizing each other up, despite only seconds passing.

Rider remained silent and unsure of herself, watching the black-clad teen intensely for any sign he needed help or extraction.

Down at street level, Berserker had paused briefly after Ichigo separated from his body, but now with nothing to distract or confuse the mad destroyer, it charged with speed far greater than his size should permit, his massive bulk pounding the grassy field like war drums. Berserker's swing came down in a massive arc, tearing through the air in a roar. Ichigo sidestepped the attack easily, his eyes never leaving the destroyer's own.

What he didn't sidestep was the massive shockwave following the attack that shredded a line in the street beneath him, startling the Soul Reaper long enough for Berserker to bring his weapon around in an equally fast sweep meant to obliterate his skull. Ichigo's sharply honed reflexes saved him, and he flash-stepped out of the way, pulling back and gave the creature a wary look: even though Berserker missed, the car parked off to the side of the park, nearly 15 meters outside the Servant's swing arc, lost the top of its cabin, sheared roughly by an unseen force.

'_Damn! He's swinging so fast that he's generating sonic booms with every attack?'_ Ichigo's mind raced in time with his body as he moved back into strike range. This kind of attack reminded him of another foe with a similar level of raw power: Kenpachi Zaraki could sunder buildings with lazy swings simply from the combination of air pressure and his own spiritual pressure. In his current Shikai state, such a one-two blow wasn't something he could take, despite being so much tougher than a normal human. One clean shot from that would likely shatter his spine through his body, assuming that the attack didn't remove his organs in the pass. He could easily take it in his Bankai state, not to mention slash Berserker to pieces in the time it took to say "Tensa Zangetsu," but a part of him loathed the idea of using it here. He was fighting a legend, and his pride and honor made him feel that using the ultimate Soul Reaper technique didn't seem very fair, especially given that he had no clue how the link between him and Rider would react to the massive increase in power.

Berserker's eyes locked back on him, the red eye blazing savagely with unrestrained madness while his teeth were bared in an animalistic grimace. The giant's weapon quickly whipped upwards for another monstrous strike, eager to taste the smaller boy's blood. The gap between them was gone in an instant, the man-beast's howl rending the quiet night as viciously as the weapon bearing down on his enemy. Widening his stance, Ichigo swung Zangetsu up to meet the axe-club as it descended, the two weapons smashing into each other with a thunderous "BOOM!"

A shockwave of displaced air as sharp as a sword was met and nullified by a surge of spiritual pressure exploding through a Soul Reaper and his zanpakutou striking in harmony.

"Impossible" was the word of the day in the minds of both Berserker's Master and Rider, and rightfully so. By all rights, that blow _should_ have ended the fight; Berserker's attack _should_ have shattered the cleaver, its wielder rent into halves by forces beyond humanity's pinnacle.

Ichigo lived and breathed the impossible, as he proved by matching power with power, countering the blow with one of his own. There was no special move, no secret skill, just raw, inhuman power delivered through an equally mighty weapon. The display was mind-boggling. For Rider, who had already seen the tiniest hints of her Master's true skill, any expectations she had about his power were utterly destroyed the way a war hammer shatters stained glass.

A human couldn't match a Servant. They were legends, empowered by their stories and the awe of humanity towards them and what they represented. Even the mightiest human would logically fall before such a thing. However, the display of power he just used drove the point home: Ichigo wasn't just a human; he was a Soul Reaper, a warrior guarding the souls of man from evils beyond the grave. She knew next to nothing about what lay after death, but Ichigo did, and he fought against masked monstrosities from there without so much as batting an eyelash. The act of meeting Berserker's sword had looked almost comically easy, and Ichigo's expression showed no fear, no strain, as though he planned to do this all night.

The explanation Rukia had given along with the testimony of Ichigo's friends was suddenly woefully lacking. How much more was there to being a Soul Reaper? What level of power and authority did they possess? Why did they need to have such power? She realized that if she was to truly understand her Master and his power, she would need to experience it through her eyes, see it firsthand rather than rely on the testimony of others to form her judgments.

Berserker is incapable of being surprised; only angered further by the enemy before him that refused to die. He swung his massive weapon again, only to have the attack disrupted by an equally powerful counter-swing from Ichigo, again turning the killing air behind the swing away. The force of their blows is channeled outward, shredding the ground around the two fighters in a series of arcing scars. The behemoth slammed his weapon into the cleaver once more, applying constant pressure to power through his smaller foe's guard and grind him to mulch.

Ichigo dug his feet in and held firm, not giving an inch beneath the Servant's ridiculous strength. The ground would likely give before his knees did. The Soul Reaper almost broke into a grin when he heard Illyasviel start yelling at him indignantly. "No fair! How can you stop Berserker's sword? You can't do that; you're cheating! Cheater!"

He didn't bother replying, focused as he was on the lead-skinned force of destruction in front of him. A small part of him, though, was caught off guard that the Master could see him even through that. While he personally didn't budge, the ground beneath his feet was another matter, which cracked and buckled from the tremendous pressure transferring through the Soul Reaper's feet. Their balance disrupted, Ichigo and Berserker both staggered slightly. The nimbler Soul Reaper recovered first, taking advantage of the momentary distraction to jump over the giant's head, Zangetsu howling through the air as he brought it down on the over-extended Servant's head.

The advantage was fleeting, Berserker proving to be far from helpless. In a stunning display of strength and instinctive combat prowess, Berserker swung one bowling ball-sized fist and backhanded the descending blade forcefully enough to send Ichigo spinning away. He landed easily enough, but Berserker was once more up and charging by the time his feet touched the ground, swinging at the comparatively puny swordsman with the fury of a cyclone. The spectators winced at the sound of their thunderous attacks, each collision of spiritual steel and mystically reinforced stone gouging the park's tended grounds like a demolition crew, leaving nothing untouched around them.

Covering his ears in distress, Kon could barely keep his eyes open with the raging winds whipping outward. "This is nuts! Completely and utterly NUTS! How the hell can this War thingy be a secret with all this racket? The police are gonna be here soon and make things really hard for us," he yelped as another blast of displaced air slashed roughly through a swing set, toppling the metal frame. While he wasn't really concerned for Ichigo's safety, the teen being so stupidly powerful and all that, but this kind of battle was way over his head. Kon was created to cover for a Soul Reaper purifying minor Hollows, not idiots plowing headfirst into walking disasters with that much murderous intent!

It took nearly all of Rider's impressive willpower to even momentarily tear her eyes away from the impossible battle down below, and the entirety of her restraint not to leap into the fray despite her Master appearing to have everything under control… so far. She slowly tilted her head up slightly, her hair flowing about her briefly as another shockwave rippled through her locks. "That young Master is clever. This area is surrounded by a Boundary Field: sound cannot escape the designated area, and I have a suspicion she will remove collateral damage with magecraft later."

The mod soul blinked and glanced around for what Rider had picked up on. "Freaky… Yipe!" Kon nearly lost his balance when a particularly savage shockwave roared through the air, feeling almost as solid as a brick wall against him.

Pulling away from another diagonal slash from the monstrous warrior, the Soul Reaper decided to wrap this fight up in one attack. "Is that all you got? Don't you know any other tricks other than swinging that slab of concrete?" Ichigo taunted his opponent with a confident smirk. The giant had no technique, not that he needed it. Hell, this guy was like Kenpachi in that respect.

Predictably, Berserker didn't respond save with a lion-like roar that carried enough force to blow Ichigo's hair back despite the six-meter gap between them. "Okay, so you can also belch out a hell of a stink," he muttered once the sound died away. The war veteran's expression pulled into a grin, a slightly feral glint in it. "I've got you all figured out, buddy: all power, no brains or style. Just a pile of muscles," he confidently declared while his whole body erupted in a raw display of spiritual pressure, a violent storm at his command. "I don't care who you were; a guy like you won't beat me. Let's finish this," he finished lowly, his grin fading into a determined frown.

As though agreeing with the desire to end the fight, Berserker thundered forward, his club raised for another devastating blow. Seeing his single-minded choice, Ichigo hefted his sword overhead like an executioner, the blade seeming to shudder in anticipation of its own accord. The spectators had no time to gape when a torrent of blue fire surrounded the cleaver blade, a low howl filling the air around it in a call for his foe's blood. The mad destroyer bellowed another challenge at his seemingly unconcerned opponent, an unstoppable avalanche bent only on his enemy's total destruction.

A sudden smirk from Ichigo was the only warning before he unleashed Hell. "Getsuga… TENSHOU!" he roared, his cleaver crashing down before him.

The world seemed to explode into daylight from this simple action. Berserker's war cry was stopped the moment the arc of light left the boy's blade, a crescent of roaring destruction slamming into the Servant's form and obscuring him behind a wall of energy that made it impossible to see into the park. If Berserker's charge was an avalanche, then Ichigo's attack was a tsunami that swallowed it up and washed it away. His Master cried out to her Servant, but it was barely audible over the raging howl of the attack that ground everything in its path to nothingness. Kon shielded himself as best he could, while Rider simply shut her eyes while her mind raced. _'Is this… what it means to be a Soul Reaper? This… is my Master's true strength? What exactly _are_ Soul Reapers?'_

When the light finally died away, the young Master of Berserker could scarcely believe the sight before her. "B-Berserker!" she screamed in horror at the sight of her mighty warrior's mangled frame.

Though he had somehow managed to put his arms up in a defense, both limbs were slashed and burned clear to the bone, his massive muscles barely sufficient to maintain his grip on the axe-club which, remarkably, looked only slightly scuffed. A pair of shallow trenches carved into the ground at his feet indicated that the force of the blow was enough to push him back several meters. An angry, red line of cooked meat ran along the length of his body where his arms failed to cover and the rest of his hulking form was blackened and sizzling, like he had been dropped through reentry from orbit. _'He… he forced Berserker to defend?'_ she wordlessly gulped at the display of raw power.

Berserker slowly pulled his arms apart, growling while the wounds repaired themselves, the scarred and scorched flesh falling away in flakes as fresh skin and muscle took its place. At the sight of her restored Servant, Illyasviel visibly relaxed before turning her attentions onto the orange-haired menace. "A good try, samurai Onii-chan, but it'll take more than that to beat Berserker! He's the stronge-"

To her surprise, Ichigo smirked again in what looked almost like bemusement, neither shocked nor afraid. "So he's as tough as he looks, huh? Guess that means I can stop playing around." A frighteningly cold look reflected in his eyes as he resumed his stance and built his power up until a glow suffused his entire body. In seconds, the light around him exploded into blue-white fire that tore away the concrete beneath his feet. The intensity of his spiritual pressure expanded in a crushing wave, the air seeming to ripple like rain around him. "Now, why don't we try that again?"

But before the battle could continue, both sides stopped cold as a wave of spiritual power washed over them from somewhere deep in Miyama. It was subtle, but extremely powerful, unfamiliar to Ichigo despite having a wide experience with reading various energy signatures. Then, the energy seemed to collapse, condensing on itself until he lost track due to his own dismal skills in the field of sensing. "What the-?" Ichigo muttered, the battle stopping for a second before Berserker took another step forward, another roar building in his throat like distant thunder rolling towards him.

While not sensing it in the same manner Ichigo did, Ilya was fully aware of what the surge of mana meant:

The last Servant had been summoned.

She wanted to peruse her library later on what kind of entity this samurai teen might be after she scouted the competition, anyway. She would need to consult her familiars to find the Servants again, but for now, it was time to break off this fight. "Well, it looks like we'll need to finish this later, Onii-san. Berserker! We're leaving!"

The giant paused for a moment, his expression returning to a cold glare bereft of his usual snarling fury. Instead of obeying his Master though, he stomped forward, his club lifting to attack as his teeth once more exposed themselves in his furious grimace. He growled again. There would be no stopping until this one was _dead_. It had _hurt_ him. He would _**KILL**_ this _enemy_. Nothing less would satisfy his rage.

Ichigo turned his attention back to the lead-skinned titan and once more prepared his attack, the aura of blue-white flame returning in a wild surge. "Still want to go? Hah! I'm game!" he challenged with a grin. Berserker's throaty howl shook the air in response. There was nothing left to be said.

Ilya couldn't believe it. It was inconceivable: was Berserker actually defying her? Was the swordsman that much of a challenge or that much of a threat? Frowning irritably, Illyasviel enforced her will on the Servant before it became unruly. "Berserker, I order you to cover our retreat and fall back!" the girl declared clearly, a flicker of red light shining through her white mitten. Berserker's red eye blazed brighter for an instant as he ground to a halt, as though conflicted by her words, fighting against some compulsion mightily. A moment later, his expression contorted into a frustrated snarl. Before Ichigo could make heads or tails of it, the giant smashed the ground with his club, sundering the concrete and sending up a massive cloud of debris, a slab of the material sent towards the swordsman as a parting shot.

Ichigo sliced through the stone and then blew away the dust with a minute burst of spiritual pressure, but his enemy was long gone. The big guy was much faster than he looked on his feet as well as with a blade. "Tch. Alright, come on out, you two. They're gone for now," he called with an obviously annoyed edge to his tone. As much as it galled him to acknowledge it, a part of Ichigo had reveled in the fight like his Hollow had told him what seemed like a lifetime ago. A part of him had _fun_ in the struggle against a legend and clearly winning. Now, that same part of him felt robbed of a satisfying conclusion.

Both Rider and Kon jumped over the empty space into the decimated park, Ichigo pulling out his deputy pass from inside his shihakushou's folds.

"Ichigo… just what manner of spirits are Soul Reapers?" Rider bluntly asked, gaining a perplexed expression from the teen and the mod soul occupying his body. Ichigo was so surprised, that he didn't kick the soul candy from his body like he planned.

"Uh, I don't think I understand your question…"

"Are you a kind of Wraith? A Divine Spirit? An Elemental, or some form of Counter Guardian? What kind of entity are you, to hold so much power?" she almost demanded.

The hybrid soul shrugged, genuinely confused. What kinds of classifications were those, anyway? Was she comparing him to angels or those old folk tales about genies and things like that? And what the heck was a Counter Guardian, anyway? Kon scratched his head, a habit of Ichigo's, but it didn't look right the way Kon did it. "Never thought about it that way. Any ideas, Ichigo?"

Lifting his eyes skyward in thought, Ichigo shook his head, still clearly perplexed. "Rukia might know, seeing as she's the official one between the two of us; I'm technically just a severely overpowered deputy."

"I have never seen any soul fight a foe of that Berserker's level equally prior to this. Whoever he was, his abilities far outclass my own under normal circumstances," Rider explained, her voice more grave and serious than he had ever heard.

"If he's the worst we have to worry about, then this War will be a cinch. But if it really bugs you, we can talk to Rukia when we get back. Speaking of which…" Ichigo compromised while lifting his badge.

Seeing the item, Kon started to whine. "Aw, come on, Ichigo! I just-" his cries were silenced as the badge tapped Ichigo's chest, sending the pill into the street. Rider quickly caught the body and lowered it to the ground, allowing Ichigo to slip in easily. The teen, now able to move his body, picked up the little green pill and the lion plushy under his coat. He popped the pill into the toy's mouth and waited for the mod soul to regain control of his designated body. "I'm really getting sick of that," Kon growled, even as he latched onto the Soul Reaper's coat.

"Let's head back for now. The book should have updated on what exactly Berserker used to endure that attack of yours," Rider suggested. Whatever Ichigo was capable of, anything able to resist it was far more dangerous than he apparently realized.

Then again, she still had no idea on how powerful Ichigo truly was. So far, despite his youth, he had taken on two Servants evenly, heedless of their power, like he knew exactly how to handle them. As if rising to answer, flashes of last night's dream appeared in her mind's eye. Images of running from a man-shaped demon with spiked hair that fought with all the madness and overwhelming might of a Berserker. _'So you _have_ faced an enemy like Berserker before… you didn't fear him because you knew what to do from experience…'_

The enigma that was her Master deepened further as a few sentences from the first night replayed through her mind. _"When he left his body and fought Lancer, what did his sword look like: cleaver or katana?"_ Ishida had asked, and supposedly, the cleaver was the weaker of the two forms.

"_Had he used Bankai, he would be ten times stronger and at least that much faster," _Rukia had said.

'_That attack wasn't your full strength at all, was it? Just what are you capable of, Ichigo?'_ she silently asked.

Her ponderings were interrupted when Ichigo spoke up to both of his companions. "All right, all right, let's get moving before someone sees the damage. This will make for an interesting news story in the morning," he muttered as he headed back towards the bright lights of the Shinto district.

* * *

Part of Shirou's mind, while grateful for the knightly woman's timely rescue, was aggravated that he needed to be saved twice in the same day. The rest of him was totally entranced by the woman standing over him. Her sudden appearance combined with her unparalleled beauty floored him, leaving him unable to say a thing.

When she spoke, her firm voice was both clear and commanding, demanding the boy's attention as forcefully as a monarch. "Servant Saber, reporting in answer to your summons," she declared.

"Huh…? Mas…ter?" Shirou managed to repeat her earlier words, utterly at a loss. Despite the sheer insanity of the situation, he knew intuitively that this small, beautiful girl was the same as the man outside. She was far more than her delicate appearance suggested; a superhuman.

"Please give me an order, Master," she spoke again, triggering a flash of sudden pain from Shirou's left hand, like a branding iron against his otherwise chilled skin. Still prone, the boy hunched over with his eyes squeezing shut, gripping his hand on instinct. Opening one eye, he gaped at the glowing red symbol on the back of his hand. A stylized diamond brand pulsed faintly there. This was apparently a signal to the woman, who nodded, more to herself than the boy. "From this time forth, my sword shall be with you, and your fate shall be with me," she vowed solemnly, placing an armored fist over her heart in a warrior's salute. "Now, our contract is complete."

Understandably, the amateur magus gaped at the words, their gravity not lost to him. "C-contract? What are you saying?" He knew exactly what she was implying, but it seemed so unreal that he wanted to deny what his own ears had just told him.

In lieu of a response, Saber turned away with all the grace of a noblewoman, shifting her sharp gaze out of the shed where the lance-wielding murderer waited for the inevitable clash. Wordlessly, she leapt out of the room, leaving her new Master struck dumb as his mind failed to keep up with the rapidly shifting events. Her lack of hesitation or even apparent caution was sufficient to jar Shirou into moving and he picked himself off of the floor, temporarily pushing aside the pain of his battered, aching body as he staggered through the door into the yard. He couldn't comprehend the girl, a tiny thing smaller than himself, taking on the spearman and having a prayer.

Shirou opened his mouth to cry out to her, to scream for her to stop before she got herself killed, but no sound came out. His expression shifted to shock and awe as his eyes relayed a sight that made little sense to him. "Wha… what is she?" he finally managed to choke out as the petite armored girl clashed with her enemy, the sparks of their blades the only illumination in the backyard as the moon once more hid itself behind the clouds. Even with just those flickers, Shirou could make out a seemingly impossible battle. Saber's weapon was completely invisible in her grip. Even when sparks exploded into existence, not even so much as a flicker of an outline appeared. Even though she appeared to hold no weapon, every thrust and swipe from the crimson blade was parried masterfully with the unseen thing in her hands, driving the killer back with each exchange.

As impossible as it looked, Saber was clearly and cleanly winning against her larger foe.

Lancer's thoughts were pretty close to paralleling the young magus. _'Damn! She's freaking _tiny_, yet here she is, overpowering a man like me! Who the hell is she? Hits almost like Berry-brow, but is almost as quick as that succubus of his!'_ he analyzed between exchanges, a particularly savage blow nearly knocking him off balance, the impact only just diffused by his spear. It was like every swing ended with an explosion of dynamite! If he was using anything but a Noble Phantasm, he had no doubts that the heavy blows he was receiving would have shattered his weapon like glass. Realization on the phenomenon hit him with another explosion of light and sound. _'Mana? She's burning _mana_ to empower her swings? This is getting ridiculous!'_ he mentally hissed even as his entire body strained to handle the invisible weapon the little lady hammered at him with. At this range, she held too strong of an advantage, especially since he had no idea what she was using for her weapon, making it impossible to form an appropriate defense. "You damn coward! Quit hiding your weapon!" he snarled as the yard flickered into view from another explosive release of magic.

Saber remained silent, only slamming into his weapon with her invisible one more furiously, as if telling him to shut up and fight. Lancer hissed in frustration, his motions becoming jerky as he couldn't react to an unseen weapon nearly as efficiently as a typical blade. That said, Lancer wasn't the Knight of the Spear for nothing, and he continued to defend against the typhoon of blows with the skill the title signified, using the minutest motions of her arms and legs to foresee her attacks.

A twitch from her right shoulder mid-swing alerted him to a feint, which he responded to with a spin of the spear around his waist to bring the weapon into position on his opposite side where the real blow arced towards.

Her left leg dug in, signaling an advancing power swing which he met with one of his own.

However, no openings presented themselves to the blue-clad marauder as the woman proved utterly relentless, beating down on his defenses like a battering ram. Finally, the girl stepped inside Lancer's guard, her sword high to deliver a killing strike. "Don't underestimate me, you idiot!" he bellowed, kicking back at inhuman speed to escape the attack. It was obvious that was meant to be the finisher, as an explosion of dust and dirt follows the swing, tearing the ground asunder. Compared to before where every blow was carefully measured and was launched for maximum effect with minimal risk, that one was a simple attack, easily dodged despite the earlier battery of blows straining the marauder's body to its limit. With her invisible weapon stuck in the ground, Saber left herself wide open for Lancer's countercharge, which he literally jumped at with his crimson blade blazing towards her.

To Shirou and Lancer's shock, the entire action was a feint, as Saber spun her whole body with her weapon still in the ground, lashing upward towards him with her entire weight behind it as the weapon was easily torn free.

"Crap!" Lancer could barely shift to a defense before the clever attack sent him sailing. Righting himself, Lancer landed softly on the grass at the far side of the yard nearly 30 yards away, thoroughly peeved. The girl across from him didn't exactly look happy about it either, both sides obviously wanting their previous attack to finish the matter.

Lancer shifted his stance into one Shirou recognized. It was his sure-kill stance, one that seeing again silenced Shirou's breathing, like an icy claw had crushed his larynx. "You know, this'll be the second to I've offered this to a clueless Master's Servant, but what do you say we call it quits here for the night? You get to bring the resident moron up to speed and we can meet up next time with our full strength."

"I decline. There is no 'next time' for Servants on the battlefield," Saber declared boldly.

Lancer grinned savagely at her courage. "I was hoping you'd say that. Judging by what I've seen, you're likely using a sword, and I've been wanting to test myself for once. Lo and behold, you show up, the most outstanding of the Servant classes: the Saber!" Immediately following his excited explanation, the air chilled unnaturally and a barely-contained anticipation appeared in his crimson eyes. "I'll take that heart of yours here and now!"

The girl narrowed her eyes, wary of the maelstrom of magical energy coalescing into the tip of his red death-dealer. Shifting her body so that her left shoulder faced Lancer in her favorite stance, she waited for the explosive motion that would signal the attack. When he shot forward, Saber barely had time to marvel at the speed before the gap between them vanished. As she lifted her blade in an overhead counterattack, she wondered why he had aimed the attack so low, almost to her feet.

"Gae… BOLG!"

In that instant, before Shirou or Saber could even react, the air around the weapon seemed to warp and stretch, the red spear making a clear bee-line for Saber's heart. More bizarrely, their eyes could plainly see that the spear changed course, but didn't actually change in size or shape, only that it was in her heart no matter which impossible direction it had to go, physics be damned. Regardless of the impossibility, Saber was momentarily spitted on Lancer's weapon with the sickening crunch of breaking bone and punctured steel before he ripped the barbed weapon free. Under normal circumstances, this attack killed any victim; the actual attack was a mere formality to show the result that was already decided: a destroyed heart.

Apparently nobody told Saber that. Instead of dropping lifelessly to the ground, the knightly woman landed somewhat stiffly on her feet, clutching her bleeding chest, but far from dead. She staggered slightly, her breathing ragged as blood ran along her silver armor in thin rivers. "A curse? No, a reversal of causality!" she analyzed through a haze of pain.

Genuine, unconcealed exasperation overcame the spearman's confident expression. "Oh, come ON! You dodged my Gae Bolg? That makes the third time using it didn't go as planned!" Lancer groused. Where the hell was all his luck?

"Gae Bolg! If that is your weapon… so that's who you are!" Saber glared knowingly at the spearman, whose expression darkened further.

The normally fierce Servant clucked his tongue in annoyance, his spear lowering as he straightened himself. "So you figured it out already, huh? Dammit! I need a break; I must be getting sloppy." Turning away, Lancer stalked to the edge of the yard, his gait stiff from frustration, not to mention a dull ache in his right leg flaring up from trying to take all of those magically enforced blows. "Normally I'd kill you for knowing my identity, but my Master is a real coward: he's calling me back because you dodged my lance."

Saber, despite the obvious pain and the profuse bleeding, took a step forward. "Are you running away, even after calling _me_ a coward?"

"A Master's orders take priority, as much as it makes me want to puke in this case. However, if you really want to die, come and get me," he taunted, a brief sense of déjà vu hitting him as he said it before he leapt over the high fence and into the night.

"Wait, Lancer!" Saber called, attempting to pursue. Unfortunately for her, her strength faltered, bringing her to one knee for a moment.

Seeing the little warrior woman stumble in pain, Shirou ran over, unsure what he could do despite his desire to help pushing aside his shock at the insanity of the situation. Worse, the sight of this beautiful girl, clad like a knight, fighting in his place clashed with his beliefs, causing the boy to grit his teeth almost painfully before finding his voice. "He-hey! Are you alright?"

Saber glanced at him slightly from the corner of her eye, taking a few shaky breaths to steady herself before standing back up, her face once more set into an unreadable mask.

Her Master could only gape in a mix of confusion and some relief. The woman's armor was once more pristine, her posture giving no hints of the crippling pain she had obviously been in a few seconds ago. _'Am I going insane? I saw her get run through completely, and now she's fine? Is this sorcery?'_ he vaguely recalled his father mentioning the impossible miracles the few with that pinnacle of power were capable of. "Who… are you?" he managed to choke out, his guard raised to the impossible being meeting his gaze.

The woman raised a golden eyebrow very slightly. "What do you mean? I am the Servant Saber. The Command Mantra on your hand is proof enough that you summoned me," she replied softly.

Shirou's voice suddenly seemed useless, only able to repeat her words like a parrot. "The Servant Saber?"

"Yes. Please call me Saber," her polite voice was gentle, peaceful like a spring wind as she responded calmly and concisely.

"…Strange name," Shirou muttered as he furiously beat down his blush at the intensity of her stare. Something about this girl made it extremely difficult to think straight, even though she wasn't really doing anything to warrant that reaction. Taking a moment to compose himself, Shirou finally recalled his manners and introduced himself. "Shirou. I'm Shirou Emiya, and this is my home." Immediately after he spoke, Shirou wanted to smack himself. Everything he said around this "Saber" girl made him sound more and more like an idiot. Another moment of silence passed, Saber patiently watching him without as much as a twitch. Finally, Shirou calmed his utterly shattered nerves enough to get his mind back on a relevant topic. "Actually, let me start over. I wanted to ask you…" and again, his tongue failed him.

Fortunately Saber was able to foresee his line of inquiry. "I know; you are not a formal Master, correct? There is no need to be cautious, Master, as I will not betray you so long as the contract between us remains."

Sure, Shirou could comprehend each individual word, but strung together, they made a ridiculous statement that he was not able to fully process. "Uh… listen, my name is not 'Master…'"

Saber's expression remained respectfully neutral as she nodded slightly. "Very well, then I shall call you Shirou. Yes, I like that much better." The poor boy almost fell over as the woman's voice drilled into his brain, the hormones in it giddily fizzing through him. She was starting out awfully familiar by calling him by his first name already without even a suffix, making the redhead squirm beneath her piercing gaze.

His mind shifted gears as a sharp spike of pain jolted through his left hand, as though someone reapplied the branding iron with the lovely addition of a razor edge along the design glowing there. "What the… hell is this?"

"Those would be your Command Spells, Shirou. So long as you have them, you have my absolute obedience three times. Do not be reckless with them," she answered without really giving him any information that he could grasp. Before he could ask for more detail, her demeanor shifted, her voice becoming laced with ice as she gazed out beyond the wall. "Shirou, heal my wounds, quickly."

"Huh?"

"Two enemies are approaching."

On the opposite side of the stone wall surrounding the Emiya estate, Rin berated her incredible naiveté earlier tonight. Rescuing Shirou Emiya from certain death, though an amazing feat from the standpoint of a magus, did absolutely nothing to actually solve the problem. A Servant wasn't a being that relied on just the five senses, even though they were more gifted in those areas than a mere human. They were far greater than that, often with additional skills on top of being able to see spirits. As such, Lancer wouldn't quit chasing the witness if there was even a hint that he survived the encounter. Three hours had passed since she had performed her little miracle, so it was extremely likely that even the most laid-back of Servants would have picked up on it by now and started to act.

It didn't take long to reach the house, the stone wall leading to a Japanese-style gate just up ahead. She might not have been particularly close with the guy she saved… okay, she barely spoke more than five full sentences with him since they met, but she knew the location of his home from another acquaintance that visited more frequently. Immediately upon arrival, her Command Spell throbbed in her right hand. "He's here: the Servant from before!" Rin breathed, white puffs echoing her words. The night air is much colder up on the hill than down in the city and the icy dread running laps up and down her spine only made it feel worse. Lancer was going to kill that guy again, who had no clue about any of this. "I'll just have to jump in and beat him. I'll think of the next part after-"

Her words are cut off by a blinding white light and a howling gale shooting outward from within the estate, casting all else into blackness for a few seconds. Rin could still sense it through the confusion: Lancer had been suddenly overmatched by an even greater presence that materialized within that house "No way..."

As if in confirmation of her thoughts, a lithe figure in blue shot over the high stone fence, his crimson spear standing out against the night in sharp relief. However, his pace was not the leisurely gait of one who had fulfilled his duty with no further concerns. Rather, he was taking off at top speed in the general direction of the bridge.

He was retreating.

With Archer just behind her, Rin closed the remaining distance between her and the house Lancer had fled from with greater care than before. The young magus's mind was a whirlwind of confusion, knowing that Lancer should have had no trouble with a mere high school boy, especially one that would have already been exhausted from the earlier events of tonight. "Archer, would this be one of those hypothetical scenarios of yours?"

"Nope. It would make seven, though. All the Masters are now accounted for, Rin," the red knight replied with the same blasé tone of a weatherman.

Her ponderings completely shattered when a second figure vaulted the wall, landing before the pair with a metallic "thunk." Archer jumped to the defense, but in her dazed state, his Master hesitated. That hesitation quite nearly cost Rin her life, a rush of wind accelerating toward her neck.

A rough shove that sent her stumbling onto her backside jolted her mind back to the matter at hand. The first thing that she processed was the blood; Archer's blood had scattered across the pavement; the price for saving his Master was the blade meant for her. Though by no means lethal thanks to his inhuman speed and skill, the shallow gash that opened across his chest and stomach would still slow Archer too much to have a prayer against another Servant in a straight battle.

"Archer, disappear!" Rin commanded sharply, another Command Seal consumed for her trouble. Her Servant faded into nothingness, an untouchable ghost until he was strong enough to fight again. The same killing wind that nearly lopped off Rin's head passed uselessly through the space Archer's neck once occupied, signaling how close her words cut it from having her Servant decapitated. The attacking Servant didn't even take a second before it resumed the attack, shifting its target to Rin, who scowled in reply as she plucked a single gem from her overcoat's pocket. "Don't underestimate me!"

Rin's jewels all contained magic harvested from her own blood over time, their structure able to store vast amounts of potential energy without the need to prepare spells from her own magic stores. The gem she selected, a topaz that had been serving this purpose for seventeen years, had enough wind-based magical power within it to level a house even without the direction of a formal spell. With a snap of the wrist, the gem exploded into a cyclone that screamed forward to swallow her enemy like an invisible serpent. Though she wasn't arrogant enough to believe such a parlor trick would defeat a Servant, Rin only needed time to escape, and the wind would at bare minimum slow the enemy down.

Of course even that proved pointless. The raging wind, a force powerful enough to pick up and toss cars like children's toys, simply died the moment it reached the Servant. Rin's expression fell in horror at the revelation: absolutely nothing a mere human magus like herself could accomplish would break through this Servant's magical resistance. It was already known that even the weakest of Servants outstripped a human in physical contests, so that, combined with her foe's magic resistance, meant that there was nothing she could do. From her position still prone on the ground, she looked up almost ruefully at the figure that stood over her. In that moment, the chilly winter wind blows aside the clouds, unveiling her death with the light of the full moon.

Death was apparently quite pretty.

"That magic was splendid, magus," the young woman complimented with her bell-like voice. To Rin however, her beautiful face, form, and voice all drove the point even further of the magnitude of the gap between them. It was almost nightmarish, especially with the way she held out her unseen blade, undoubtedly a sword, to her throat with neither malice nor pity. "However, this is your end, Master of Archer."

Rin almost wanted to laugh at that. She understood her position well enough, but the irony of the situation was too much. Her killer, this small girl with the power to crush two Servants back-to-back and shrug off her magic with ease, was the very card she had so desperately wanted for herself. Even though she had no proof other than her instincts, she still adored the woman towering over her. That would be her only regret, as strange as it seemed. After all, her enemy was the strongest; her figure was just so heartless, so infinitely valiant, and so beautiful. She was going to be cut down… by the Saber.

"SABER! STOP!" a male voice screamed, jolting Rin from her introspection, and freezing Saber's sword arm. Behind the silver-armored knight, a weary and very confused Shirou Emiya panted for breath, his eyes wide and frantic. The boy had barely made it to save the second person, but wasn't swift enough for the man in red, and regardless of the reasons, he couldn't condone the killing of a defenseless person. More to the point, Shirou couldn't stand the thought of _anyone_, regardless of circumstance, dying in his presence unless they were truly beyond redemption.

On top of that, Saber had completely and effortlessly overpowered both opponents despite her hidden injuries, even cutting off an immense spell that rivaled the strongest of his adoptive father's intervention magics with absolutely no effort. This wasn't a fair struggle, and he had no reason to believe that the two out here had meant any harm. The idea of Saber killing the very human foe at her feet was too much, so he demanded a halt. "Don't. I don't want you to kill her," he managed to say, a remarkable amount of authority reaching his tone.

Saber's sword didn't move. "Why? She is Archer's Master, and thus an enemy that we must kill," his knightly Servant replied matter-of-factly.

"How do I know that? I don't know anything! Even if you call me Master, I need to understand what's going on first!" he reasoned desperately.

Saber's piercing emerald eyes glared at him, measuring his words silently.

Shirou somehow managed to meet her cool stare with a fiery glare of his own. "Look, we started off in the wrong order. I don't understand a thing right now, but I'm willing to hear you out if you just talk, so please… this is enough."

Another moment of uneasy silence passed before the noble knight spoke flatly. "You can't be suggesting that we don't hurt people unnecessarily, can you? Are you that naïve? I can't obey such an order; an enemy is someone that you must defeat. Stop me with a Command Spell if you insist on the unreasonable."

And in a moment of panicked stupidity, Shirou stuck his foot in his mouth with his next words. "I'm talking about you! A girl shouldn't be swinging a sword around like that, especially if you're already hurt! Well, I don't know if it's a sword at all, but the point remains; you're a girl, so you can't!"

The incredulous, mute look he received from the blond Servant stretched out into an uncomfortable silence, the wind the only sound until Rin finally found her voice, having been too stupefied by the conversation going on as if she wasn't even there. She wasn't used to being ignored, especially since it was her life in the balance. "So, am I going to be let up or not?" she said with a very slight mocking tone to her question.

The shift in attention broke the stalemate, and Saber's eyes locked back on to Rin's. "Surrender. As long as you are an enemy, I will not lower my sword."

Rin's smug smirk belied her nervous tension. "Even if your Master says to lower it? Wow, even the _Saber_ would betray her Master," she quipped.

Saber's jaw clenched at the sting to her honor, but she finally relented, lowering her sword and visibly relaxing. Her fists closed, revealing that neither hand held her mystery blade.

Now free to do so, Rin stood up and brushed her back clear of the dust, sulking at the situation. As she glanced up at the two, a priceless look of stunned recognition settled on Shirou's face, his mouth opened in a slight "o" with wide eyes. "Good evening, Emiya-kun," she greeted with a wide smile, as if _she_ was the victor of this meeting, and in a little way, she felt that she was.

"T-Tohsaka?" he choked out weakly. Shirou's painfully long night looked to be getting longer, and part of him just wanted to fall into bed, sleep, and see if this insanity would be willing to wait for him until the morning, or better yet, vanish entirely. On top of that, his little crush, the school idol, was a _magus_? The thought made his head spin as much as Saber's presence did. "W-wait, you're a…?"

"Yep, a magus, the same as you from the looks of things. That's one less thing to worry about hiding then, right? How about we talk inside? You said you didn't understand anything, right Emiya-kun?"

As she walked towards the front door like she owned the place, Shirou caught up to her. "H-hold on a second!"

Rin gave him a calculating look. "There's a lot to discuss, so we're doing it inside. You said you're confused and that's perfectly fine, but right now, just accept it and run with it. You'll get yourself killed one day if you aren't willing to do that much at times like these."

The cold stare from her crystal blue eyes completely shocked the poor magus-in-training into silence. The image he had of the Rin Tohsaka from school was utterly crushed. She was so much more… intense and fiery than the perpetually calm, collected and seemingly perfect woman he and the rest of his school, aside from the Student Council president, idolized and respected. Almost robotically, he followed after her with Saber a pace behind him. He just knew that he wouldn't be getting much sleep tonight of the gnawing pit in his stomach was any indication.

Due to his nerves, he discounted the roughly man-shaped haze hovering behind Tohsaka as his imagination.

* * *

"Yo, we're back," Ichigo announced blandly as he took off his coat, Kon dropping out of it to leap onto one of the couches. Rider's mouth was very slightly downturned, the only outward sign of her deepening thoughts.

Kon landed almost on top of Rukia, who was sprawled across the couch in her gigai, her hand obviously having received Orihime's ministrations. "Welcome back, you two," the Kuchiki greeted before focusing her indigo eyes on Ichigo. "I sensed your spiritual pressure spike: what happened?"

Kon slid down to her feet at the far end of the couch. "Ichigo went and played hero again."

The deputy's scowl deepened, but didn't deny anything. "I ran into another Master and Servant pair. A little girl about Yuzu and Karin's age named Ilya von something-or-other. Her Servant was the Berserker," Ichigo explained as he headed over to the coffee table and picked up the book the priest gave him. Flipping it open, he was somewhat startled by the sudden completeness of the data within its pages on Berserker. The giant's face in as close to a neutral expression as he could likely give sat like a photo in the upper right corner, along with a series of letter ranks beside physical statistics. "Take a look. Ugly bastard, but really strong and quicker than he looks," he showed his first Soul Reaper friend the page and Rukia scanned it while she pulled herself upright.

"Master: Illyasviel von Einzbern… Berserker class… What else can you tell me?" Rukia glanced at the two.

Having taken a seat where Rukia had been laying, the lavender-haired Servant looked at Ichigo for a second before replying in his stead. "When Ichigo used an energy attack against him, Berserker repaired the damage completely in a matter of seconds. Also, every swing carried a shockwave that Ichigo had to directly counter to minimize damage."

Ichigo shrugged. "A half-powered Getsuga Tenshou did some harm, but it would probably take a full-powered version to get him to stay down. Shikai, of course."

"Of course."

The sheer indifference from Rukia to the amount of power Ichigo used was startling to Rider, almost making her topple from her position. _'That first attack was only half strength?'_

"Kurosaki-kun, Rider-san! You're back!" the bubbly voice of Orihime interrupted the three, obviously getting ready for bed. "Your hand okay, Rukia-chan?"

"Never better, Inoue-san. Thanks again," Rukia smiled, holding up her healed hand and wiggling the fingers painlessly.

"Yo, Inoue. Where're the others?" Ichigo casually greeted.

Leaning over the back of the couch to see the book in Rukia's hands, Orihime smiled at her hero. "Tatsuki-chan and Chad-kun already went to bed, and Uryu's busy prepping some Ginto outside."

Rider glanced at Orihime out of the corner of her eye as she pretended to focus on the pages dedicated to Berserker. The auburn-haired teen was another matter that needed addressing, though that would come later. Right now, she needed to figure out how to word her burning questions.

Nodding in understanding, Rukia looked up towards the shield maiden and widened her hold on the book to show her more. "We were just going over Ichigo and Rider's new enemy."

"Oh…" Orihime disliked the idea of combat as always, now even more staunchly against violence ever since her capture, but she understood somewhat painfully that there were others who didn't, and wouldn't, share her view. Grimmjow and Nnoitra were proof of that. She fought down a yawn and looked over the other three's shoulders at Berserker's portrait. She shuddered at the image. If he shaved his head and put a lower jawbone on his chin… "He looks a lot like… Yammy…"

"I thought so too. But his Master has him on a short leash, at least. When she ordered a retreat, she used a Command Spell rather than let him finish his fight with me."

"Anything about the Master you think is worth mentioning?" Rukia asked.

"Yeah. For one, she was practically albino, so she'll stick out in a crowd. Two, she could see me, and three, and this is just weird, when I got close to her, her spiritual pressure was completely different from anyone I've ever met."

"What do you mean, Kurosaki-kun?"

Ichigo glanced up towards the ceiling as he wracked his brain for an effective description. "It was like… like she was made of raw spirit energy. I couldn't get a fix on it, but it was like someone bottled up a huge amount of power into her body and trapped it without letting an ounce of it flow out of her like it would you or me. It wasn't actively suppressed either, just compressed like my Bankai in some odd way."

Rukia wrote all of this down. "Hmmm… maybe the Twelfth Division has an idea."

"Just make it perfectly clear that Kurotsuchi's NOT allowed to come here."

"Agreed."

And yet another question was added to Rider's ever-growing list.

Flipping to the next page, the group found a description of Berserker's Noble Phantasm, though its true title was unknown. "What do we have here? 'God Hand: A blessing (curse?) bestowed by the gods that grants immortality. By turning the body into a robust armor, any attack not exceeding B-rank is completely negated,'" Rukia read aloud, utterly lost by the ranking system's seemingly arbitrary designation.

Ichigo smirked. "Guess that makes Zangetsu an A-rank."

"So it would seem," Rider conceded.

Rukia's expression hardened as she finished her perusal. "There's more, and it doesn't look good: 'It is able to learn about a move that penetrated it and grow a resistance to that attack. In addition, God Hand grants eleven instantaneous resurrections, meaning that Berserker must be slain twelve times to be eliminated.'"

"_What_? That's ridiculous! That means you need twelve completely different lethal attacks? What kind of Servant has a chance against that?"

"Combined with his personal skills allowing him to keep fighting with anything less than a lethal wound without penalty, Berserker is easily the most powerful Servant, but after seeing your power I doubt even he would be able to survive a fight at your peak, Ichigo."

"Getsuga Tenshou is Zangetsu's only attack other than its cutting edge. If Berserker's gained a resistance to it, I would need to behead him over and over again. And if he develops a resistance to _that_…" Ichigo groused, his mood already soured by the shortened fight from earlier.

"Do not confuse resistance with immunity. You said it yourself; the 'Getsuga Tenshou' that you nearly killed him with was at half strength. If your Bankai is as strong as you all made it sound, then use that attack with enough power to kill him several times over at once. Overwhelm his defenses with raw power," Rider pointed out.

Ichigo's tension drained noticeably. "Guess that'll be the plan, then. It's weird fighting these guys; nothing at all like going after an arrancar."

Even with her vast patience, Rider had hit her limit. She was not appreciating being left in the dark about all of these terms, especially after tonight's display shaking the foundations of her belief in her Master's limits.

In hindsight, there wasn't exactly much of a foundation to begin with.

"Ichigo, Rukia. I have some things I want to ask you."

The other four, counting Kon, looked at her, caught off guard by her suddenly sharp tone. Orihime tilted her head. "What's on your mind, Rider-san?"

"Soul Reapers. You told me about their duties, but now I need more answers."

Rukia could swear that there was an angry red glow coming from behind Rider's blindfold, but kept her mind on business. "I'll answer what I can."

"What exactly are Soul Reapers? I'm not asking about what your role is in the world, but what kind of spirit are you?"

Rukia's brows knitted together in thought. That was a strange question, indeed. "I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean. A Soul Reaper is normally a dead human's soul with greater than normal spiritual power trained in the Soul Society to harness it. Ichigo is an exception, being alive still."

"Yes, he mentioned something to that effect earlier. What did you mean?"

Ichigo stood back up and walked into the kitchen, speaking slightly louder while he fixed himself a glass of orange juice. "It's complicated, but the short version starts about nine months ago. I've always been able to see ghosts and spirits, so I was apparently a full-course meal to Hollows even before I got my powers. My family was attacked by a Hollow looking for me, and Rukia saved me but was nearly killed by it. In order to save everyone there, I needed to borrow her powers, which she lent me. She lost them temporarily, so I learned the ins and outs while she recovered. Since then, I've been through a _lot_ and developed my own power as a result." The slight emphasis on "a lot" signified that he wasn't exactly willing to elaborate at the moment.

Rider let it slide; it was late, after all. "So this power can be transferred between people?"

"It's considered taboo, and it involves the lender stabbing you in the heart with their zanpakutou, so it's nowhere near common. One mistake and I would have died, and Rukia and the rest of my family would be close behind. Being eaten by a Hollow pretty much destroys your soul until the Hollow's purified by a Soul Reaper, which lets you pass on." Ichigo explained as he sat back in an open recliner, sipping his drink slowly.

Rider _almost_ shuddered at the idea before moving on to the next topic. "This… Soul Society; what is it? I don't believe I've ever heard that term used to describe the afterlife."

"Wholes that pass on visit this realm to rest peacefully for an indefinite length of time until they 'die' and return to the cycle of reincarnation. It is similar in many ways to the Living World from long ago, but unless you have spirit energy you won't feel hungry, and aging is slowed in proportion to your spiritual pressure. The oldest captains are easily a few thousand years old, but look to still be in their prime in human terms."

"The old man in charge _really_ looks over the hill, but he's so insanely strong that he's still considered their best by far," Ichigo added, recalling the Captain-General's ridiculous ability in all areas of Soul Reaper combat.

Rukia smacked the deputy's arm with an aggravated frown, eliciting a startled squawk from him. "Speak of Captain-General Yamamoto with respect, Ichigo! Anyway, if a person starts needing food, they are taken to the Seireitei, the Court of Pure Souls, to harness their power before it becomes dangerous to themselves and others. We really don't categorize ourselves aside from our ranks within our squads."

"…I see… There is no rhyme or reason to who has the requisite spirit energy?"

"With the exception of the noble families, who all carry spirit energy through their lineage, no. Ichigo has no nobility in him, and look how he turned out."

Rider's posture shifted as she tried to make heads or tails of the description. Her understanding placed Soul Reapers somewhere between Elementals that the world's will and man brought into being for the task of protecting souls, and Guardian Spirits that human desires conjured from the souls of the dead for that same reason. That said, the power Ichigo displayed tonight far outstripped all but the highest class of spirits, the Divine. On top of that, they were far from formless entities, but more like some kind of military force. "So there is a realm within Akasha for souls awaiting reincarnation, and you are a part of it?"

"Akasha?" The other souls stared blankly at the woman, no recognition reaching their eyes.

Rider let off the slightest of sighs, but opted not to lose track of the point in a tangent at the moment. "We'll discuss that later. For now, I also want to know: what kind of powers do you wield? Ichigo's strength matched that of a Heroic Spirit who had an enhancement to already immense strength, and both of you know that speed technique. Are you capable of the same?"

Shaking her head, Rukia explained, "Ichigo is far and away the strongest and fastest of us here, but my area of expertise lies more in kido than zanjutsu. Essentially, I would be considered a Caster, using the Servant terminology."

"Can your sword also produce destructive energy like Ichigo's?"

"No; every zanpakutou is unique to its wielder, and is a reflection of their fighting spirit. Mine is elementally aligned with ice and snow, rather than raw destructive power."

Rider nodded, her mask concealing a thoughtful expression. "I'm sorry if I seemed rude, but I needed to understand what made a human able to stand against a legendary hero: it normally should be impossible."

"Well, if it's one thing Ichigo's good at, it's breaking the rules." As she said this, Rukia gave the boy a slightly playful smile.

"I don't know whether to take that as an insult or a compliment coming from you, midget," he muttered with a slight tinge of amusement. Gulping down the last of his drink, he waved a hand to his friends as he made his way to his room. "Anyway, it's late. We should probably get some sleep. We still got a lot of work to do. G'night."

* * *

Descending from Shinto's church in a slight daze, Shirou went over what he had learned, his mood dour at the implications of it all. First, Rin had explained exactly what the mark on his hand entailed, as well as the kind of insanely powerful entity Saber actually was. Then he was dragged all the way to the church at the far end of Shinto to meet the mediator, Kirei Kotomine, and formally register him as a Master. While Shirou did get the big questions answered as well as learn a huge amount, the whole experience made the redhead nearly vomit.

While getting away from that priest and seeing Saber had removed the painfully heavy feeling from his shoulders, he still felt shaken to the core. Somehow he, an amateur magus in the extreme, had been selected for an insane "game" where he was essentially given a legendary hero as a weapon to fight and kill six other magi and/or their heroic Servants over a wish-granting Holy Grail! Worse, backing out ceased being an option the moment the priest dropped the bomb: the fire that robbed him of his birth family and brought a vision of hell to his young eyes was the result of the previous war, when someone unworthy touched the Grail. What kind of hero runs away when innocent lives are at risk? No, he had to fight to prevent another tragedy. With his agreement, the fifth Holy Grail War was officially underway.

Still, the worst part was the way the priest's parting words plagued his thoughts endlessly.

"_Rejoice, young man,"_ he had said, an almost manic light appearing in his eyes. "_For your wish will finally come true!"_When he had questioned this, Shirou felt something in him break at the answer. "_To become a hero of justice, there must be an absolute evil for you to stop. Ironic. To wish to save someone… is also to wish for a villain to put someone in danger to begin with. Good luck, young Emiya."_

As much as Shirou wanted to deny the grim-looking man's words, the truth within them made it impossible to just disregard. A hero is someone who saves others, which implies a crisis, and a hero of justice must have an enemy, a villain to dispense justice to. _'Has my ego been guiding my dream for so long? Did I really think I could be a hero of justice like Tou-san without an enemy to overcome?' _His movements were stiff and mindless as he reached the streets at the edge of Shinto's suburban stretch. Rin had remained silent the entire way, leaving him to stew in his thoughts. Circumstance and her words back at his house had made it abundantly clear that once they parted ways, they would be enemies.

In a bid to alleviate this depressing train of thought, he turned to Rin. "Tohsaka, is your Servant alright?"

"Huh? Oh yeah, Archer's fine. He managed to avoid the worst of Saber's attack at the last moment, so he should be as good as new within a day."

Shirou noted that the hazy patch beside Rin had continued to follow her, even out here. Again, he shrugged it off. Since Archer was astralized, he would be completely invisible, so there was no way he could see him. He briefly wondered if he needed some sleep or eye medication more. "I'm relieved. Even if we have to be enemies, it makes me feel better knowing you'll be able to defend yourself with his help."

Rin gave him a slightly bemused look. She couldn't fault him for being concerned, considering he just had his whole world practically blown to bits within the last three hours or so. He simply couldn't start thinking about her as an enemy at the drop of a hat.

Saber continued to follow the pair silently, her armored form covered by a massive yellow rain poncho more suitable for covering a motorcycle than a person. In the heat of the moment, it was the best Shirou could scrounge to cover her up, seeing as she stood out horribly in her combat gear. Seeing as how she was a complete enigma, Shirou wasn't sure how to start a conversation with her. He found himself wracking his brain for something to talk about to either one of them. Saber's demeanor and no-nonsense attitude meant that he couldn't really come up with anything, but Rin…

Struck with another thought that beat back his anxieties, Shirou glanced over to the raven-haired magus. "Oh yeah, Tohsaka. Since you know that priest, does he know your Servant?"

"He shouldn't; I haven't told him anything other than that I have one."

"Okay. It looked like you two got along somewhat in there, so I had to wonder."

"You need glasses, then. I don't trust that weasel as far as I can throw him. He's a sneaking cheat who joined the Magic Association without quitting the Church. He'd sell me out in a heartbeat." Rin's brows then knitted together as she turned to look at Shirou more seriously. "Emiya-kun, I think it's only fair to warn you that you should be extremely careful with Saber's identity. Don't tell _anyone_, even if you trust them."

"Huh? Her identity?"

"Simply put, who your Servant was in their past life. If you know that much, you can easily figure out their strengths and weaknesses. Although, now that I think about it, it might be better if you don't know it at all."

"Why? If I know all that, I can plan for her strengths and minimize her weaknesses."

"Yeah, that might be true, but you can't keep a secret."

Shirou scowled at the more powerful mage at that. "Hey, I can keep a secret. I kept the fact I'm a magus from everyone, haven't I?"

"Oh, really? Are you hiding something else from me, then?" Immediately, Shirou's face reddened as he was reminded rather abruptly of his secret crush on the girl beside him… or at least, the mask she showed at school. She took one look at his expression and sighed theatrically. "Exactly my point. You don't have to say anything at all when you show it on your face like that."

Saber finally spoke, her clear tone cutting away any retorts Shirou might have tried. "I am inclined to agree with Rin Tohsaka on this point, Shirou. Your honesty is admirable, but it makes it easy for someone with the right methods to learn any secrets you may have."

Shirou huffed slightly at being double-teamed like that, but turned away to cool his head. The trio silently crossed the bridge into Miyama, quietly enjoying what would likely be the last night of peace before they began fighting for their lives. Finally, they reached the intersection that led to their respective districts. "Well, this is where we part. I've paid my debt, and starting tomorrow, we'll be enemies. If I help you anymore, I'd start getting too attached, so goodnight, Emiya-kun."

Shirou gave her a wistful half-smile. While she was wildly different from what he had come to admire from school, revealing an unapproachable, short-tempered, snide and sarcastic girl, Rin was still a fundamentally good person underneath all that. Even though she took a huge risk and nearly lost her Servant, she still took the time to explain things to him, making sure he fully understood his options. That went beyond simply repaying a debt: it was genuine, fair support of someone out of his element. "Thank you, Tohsaka. You really are a good person. I know it's kinda dumb to say it, but I'd rather not be enemies with you. I like people like you."

For the first time since Saber had let her stand, Rin was utterly speechless. Obviously she didn't expect to be given such a heartfelt thank you after all of the revelations were done. People like Shirou were too gentle and kind to be involved in this sort of madness, but here he was, thanking her like she had treated him to dinner or something. Brushing one of her pigtails behind her shoulder, she looked away slightly. She was secretly very glad it was too dark to easily make out the blush she was likely sporting. "J-just run to the church if your Servant gets killed. At least that way you'll survive."

Shirou nodded, even though he had a gut feeling that if Saber died, he would be right there behind her, making it a moot point. With their awkward goodbyes exchanged, Rin turned to head up towards the Western-style buildings, the opposite direction from Shirou's Japanese estate.

She didn't make it ten feet before she stopped cold. "Tohsaka?" Shirou followed her gaze just as a short, burning pain throbbed through his left hand.

"Are you two finished?" a young voice called out sweetly from higher up the hill. There, at the top, two figures were slowly illuminated by the moon as the wind blew away the veil of clouds. One was a little girl, clad in purple and gazing at them through crimson eyes. Though he had only seen her once before, Shirou easily remembered her from a few days prior, where she had given him a suddenly not-so-cryptic warning.

Behind her, another, inhumanly massive figure loomed grimly, a powerful creature parodying a man's shape, stone-still. Even while it stood peaceably there, the massive Servant (for what else could it possibly be?), nearly made Shirou's vision blur from the aura of death that filled the air.

"Berserker…" the raven-haired girl mumbled, fear tingeing her tone.

"Good evening, Onii-chan. We meet again," she innocently giggled with a soft smile like the moon overhead. The contrast between her demeanor and the circumstance sent chills down the magi's spines, effectively locking them in place.

While the killing intent behind the monster's mere presence effectively crushed Shirou's resolve to even move, Rin had the presence of mind to analyze the situation. The results weren't exactly promising. "Crap… he's way out of our league."

The girl's smile faded into an almost disheartened frown. "Phoo. Your Servant's not coming out to play? I was hoping I'd kill you both right now at their peak," she said with an equally unhappy tone. Then, in an almost contradictory act of politeness before the inevitable murder spree, she curtsied formally. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Rin. I am Ilya. Illyasviel von Einzbern, if you prefer."

Rin almost gagged at her luck. Running into that monster, who was under the command of the Einzberns? It really didn't get much worse than this, she thought. Her mind racing for a plan, she barely heard the little girl's next sentence. "Now, I'll kill you all." The way she spoke those words was disgustingly pure, almost like she didn't understand them. "Go ahead, Berserker," she sang happily.

No further encouragement was needed, and the massive form of Berserker flew into battle with a silent leap. His massive strength meant that he covered the distance into the fray instantly, his axe-club high overhead for one massive blow. Saber tore off the raincoat and closed her gauntlet around her invisible sword even as she rushed to face the monster. "Shirou, stay back!" she ordered sharply.

The two Servants met at nearly the same instant, Berserker's weapon descending with the fury and speed of a meteor, Saber's own blade rising to meet it. Their attacks collided in a small explosion of displaced air, Saber almost matching her enemy's strength for the first exchange. Her expression twisted slightly, pained from the impact despite the successful parry. Berserker's whirlwind of destruction didn't let up for an instant, and the small blonde barely found herself able to defend against the second swing, the resulting collision of steel and stone pushing her back in a stiff slide. The sheer power behind the blow had nearly sent her airborne, and it became disturbingly apparent as the gray titan charged after her that the mighty Saber was overmatched.

Badly.


	8. Masked Machinations: Part I

AN: Alright people, here I present to you the next chapter of Fate/Stay BLEACH! I'd like to thank you all for taking the time to read this little story of mine and everyone who helped me along the way with encouragement and ironing out the ideas, and... wow. 11,000+ hits and over 75 reviews? You guys are awesome.

This chapter was weird in that I knew what I wanted to have happen in general, but the devils in the details kept fighting me every step of the way.

_Masked Machinations: Part I_

The Master of Berserker was planning to fight the Saber so soon after his previous battle, she noted. If it were any other time, she would have compared the prowess of the magi of her era and the current one, but now, something more interesting had captured her imagination. It was her initial intent to simply spy on the Berserker and measure its abilities, but the boy with the hair color matching a day lily had drawn her attention the moment he split himself from his body. It wasn't the first time she had seen him, along with his Rider. In her mind, the key to victory lay in careful planning and discreet intelligence gathering to learn the strengths and weaknesses of one's foes.

To that end, she focused her efforts on each Servant in turn over the course of the week. So far, the Masters had sufficient defenses in place to limit her ability to spy on them, even if she was mostly limited to Servants and their immediate surroundings anyway due to the nature of her scrying spells. Lancer was a very mild threat, what with his speed and skill. However, she never planned on giving him the chance to use either if she eventually needed to confront him. Archer was an enigma, and thus was quite dangerous. Rider was the same way, especially with the fact that she had revealed nothing about herself so far. Saber was as impressive as expected, forcing Lancer to withdraw in single combat. Berserker, simply put, was a monster, a creature she would not be letting herself or her love face any time soon.

But these were all overshadowed by the Master of Rider: the black-clad swordsman took on a Heroic Spirit like Berserker and _toyed_ with him. Sure, their physical strength was effectively equal, but she knew from watching this boy that he was unconcerned with Berserker. He knew something, and likely was holding back more than it appeared. She could see it in his movements and from his reactions, even after Berserker endured the white light. He was dangerous, too dangerous to face directly. She would need to plan very carefully so as not to be caught in a fight with him unless she had an overwhelming advantage or sufficient leverage. Having her guardian at the main gate was suddenly inadequate for her defense.

Earlier tonight, she had decided to harvest a few more souls to lessen the strain of constantly asking her Master for mana. She had already managed to find a group to feed on, when she was interrupted by someone. It was like the person was trying to trace her location, to which she reacted violently in a spike of panic. Immediately, she looked into the source of the disturbance and found, once again, Rider, her Master, and another black-clad being, the small girl she had seen traveling with them a few nights prior. They had come dangerously close to finding her, but she had barely managed to avoid that disaster.

It was not all bad news, though. They had unwittingly given her a new avenue to approach this War from: the masked, wraith-like monsters they exterminated, these… "Hollows" could prove useful, but she needed to capture one and study it more thoroughly. Also, his massive power seemed to linger for a prolonged period in an area he used it in. With the right tactics, she could likely make use of this leftover energy once she understood it more. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't genuinely excited by the possibilities. With a slight smile, Caster began perusing her workshop for the tools needed to begin her investigation, stopping only once her crystal ball showed her that Berserker had begun his battle with Saber.

Elsewhere, Lancer hopped down the bell tower into the church proper, astralized and thus unimpeded by the doors until he was in front of his Master. "Hey, Master. Did ya feel that?"

"What did you sense, Lancer? I am but a mere human," the grim figure replied, the barest hints of sarcasm in his tone.

"Some huge source of mana just swept over here all the way from the far side of the river. I don't know about you, but whoever or whatever put out enough mana to be felt all the way out here is worth checking out, right?"

A third voice joined the conversation, an unhidden mocking tone in it. "Ah, so the dog whimpers to its master, wishing to be let off the chain? How cute. Maybe if you roll over while you beg, he'd be more inclined to agree!" the man laughed, his posture completely at ease.

Lancer wanted to growl, but that would just egg the arrogant prick on further. Instead he glared at him, whose condescending, crimson eyes dared him to react in any way. Before the tension reached its breaking point, Lancer's Master finally spoke. "There is no need to antagonize him, Gilgamesh. He brings up a valid point, one that must be considered carefully. Lancer, I want you to investigate the estimated point of origin before dawn. If you can find any sign of what caused this mana surge, I want to know about it. There is a possibility that the Saber used her Noble Phantasm."

The newly identified Gilgamesh shrugged with a slightly exaggerated motion. "I doubt that. _Her_ sword is much more focused and bright. A truly magnificent weapon worthy of her station. This surge of energy was far rougher, unbefitting of royalty; a plebian's weapon at best."

Lancer didn't stick around to debate the issue. He had new orders, and the chance to get away from this little hellhole that ironically took the form of a church. Speeding back into the night yet again, he silently cursed his numerous enemies. Would it be that much of an inconvenience to have their fights a little closer to the church? It took him about ten minutes to reach the bridge, and another five to find the rather obvious Boundary Field around the park. Under most circumstances, a person would have ignored it, seeing as that was its primary purpose; a removal of perception. A subtle suggestion niggled at him, trying to convince him to ignore this spot as well, but the artificial impulse was shoved aside by his innate Magic Resistance. Lancer smirked. Even if a dragon took a nap in the space, normal humans would walk right on by. Not a bad trick. While nothing that insane was within the field, it did keep the absolutely mangled park and playground from drawing attention.

Still astralized, the Knight of the Spear took stock of the damage: the ground was upturned in several places, gouged and blasted by an inhuman force. Several fissures were visible, along with signs of tremendous impacts. Whatever fought here knew nothing about restraint. That narrowed the suspects considerably. "So someone got squashed by Berserker?" he mused. "Poor bastard." Approaching one of the small craters, Lancer lifted an insubstantial eyebrow at the imprints at the bottom.

Footprints: two impressions of what looked like straw sandals or similarly patterned shoes were embedded in the ground, the immediately surrounding area uneven and cracked. Lancer might have assumed that Berserker had squashed the owner of the footprints, but there was no impression of a weapon or any blood. Add to that the fact that the magus in charge of that particular behemoth hadn't cleaned up the mess yet also hinted at the outcome.

Closer inspection of the scene led him to three parallel lines carved into the ground. The center line was the most interesting; it was a deep, almost perfectly carved fissure nearly two feet wide and almost as deep as his spear was long that tapered into a point like a blade. On either side of the scar, two shallow trenches told the story of something large and heavy pushed back by the source of the fissure's advance. At the end of the furrows, small flakes of black material lay scattered about, ranging in size from no bigger than blades of grass to one chip the size of his hand. Crouching to give the piece a closer look, Lancer cringed at the smell. It was a small slab of burnt meat, roughly the texture of used charcoal and smelling of ash. Whatever made the trench was both extremely forceful and as hot as the flames of hell to do that kind of damage.

Given his suspicions on what might have transpired, the ghostly being inhaled sharply and muttered to himself. "Holy shit…" Whoever had fought Berserker was on the same level as that giant. Thankfully, his own bastard of a Master hadn't ask him to fight it, but he still saw the lead-skinned monster when its pint-sized Master had introduced herself as an official participant.

Speaking of whom, Lancer went over list of people to kill and/or enjoy a brawl with: his current Master and Gilgamesh both needed to die painfully, ideally with Gae Bolg through their chests, and he wanted several rematches. Berry Brow was last; he wanted an epic finish worth the risk. That succubus of a Servant he had was also on the list: their first encounter had no clear winner or even a real conclusion, a fact that needed to be rectified. Then there was that smug white-haired pretty boy, and most recently, the most outstanding of Servants: the Saber. "Damn it! At this rate I'll have grudges with half the city before the War's done!" he railed angrily while he headed towards the demolished playground.

While he continued his inspections, back across the river in a modest hotel Bazett Fraga McRemitz splashed some warm water on her face, taking a deep breath. She had gone to bed reasonably early, barely even 11:30, in order to get up at dawn in hopes of intercepting Tatsuki during her jog again. At the moment, though, her thoughts were elsewhere. Under an hour after she had gone to sleep, her slowly drifting mind was jarred to full wakefulness by an invisible wave of mana-like energy that washed over her from outside. Every nerve had jumped to full alert, and she nearly leapt into a defensive stance without thinking.

Confused, the Irish redhead tried to make sense of this feeling that had pressed against her less than an hour ago even as she washed her face. It was like… hell she wasn't sure what it felt like, but could most easily be described as some kind of _pressure_ against her insides. She could move easily so it was not a physical interference of some kind, but this feeling of pressure always came from a specific direction like a breeze.

For about five minutes after it had started the feeling was nothing more than a vague tingle before another wave hit her, this one startling her with its greater intensity nearly making her stumble at the foreign sensation. She had nearly flown to her balcony in response to it and tried to look towards the source of the feeling, throwing open the sliding door and standing in the chill night air looking in the direction of the river where the pressure was coming from. For a second, nothing seemed amiss.

Then another wave had passed over her, this one obviously from the far side of the river, likely in the rough area of the city park she had passed through earlier that morning while tracing Orihime and Tatsuki's travels. Unfortunately for her burning curiosity and professional interest, the hotel was too far from the river for her to see anything through all of the buildings. The pressure on her abated then flared again even higher in a double-whammy that chilled her blood. She was getting dizzy from the barrage; especially the last wave that just hit her then seemed to pull itself away like an implosion. Her left hand had twitched at a slight jolt of pain at that last one, an obviously unique reaction that drew her eyes to it, but she could see no sign of anything happening even as the sensation faded. Finally, after one last wave, everything seemed to calm, the mysterious pressure abating. She had spent the last fifteen minutes waiting to see if any more strange waves floored her, but she had finally decided that whatever had happened was finished for the time being.

Looking at her reflection in the mirror, she asked it, "What's happening out there?" Bazett silently vowed to investigate the area in the morning as she staggered back to bed. She had a rough guess as to where to look, but whatever that strange energy was, it was completely outside her realm of understanding, a feeling she had hated for as long as she had been a magus under the Mages' Association. After flopping listlessly onto her bed, she rolled to stare listlessly at the ceiling while she waited for sleep to claim her again. The possible implications rattling around in her head of those waves made sleep a long ways off. It was like she was sensing mana, but that wasn't one of her abilities without rune magic, which she conspicuously hadn't used before going to bed. For that matter, even if she did suddenly have the gift, how could she sense it at such an obvious distance? Ever since she had been rescued, the world had been slowly turning on its head, leaving the magus confused and even a little afraid. "Maybe… it would be better to ask… what's happening to _me_?"

* * *

With another explosion of mana-driven power, Saber parried Berserker's killing strike. Then again, from this monster, every swing was inherently lethal. The giant silently swung the club randomly, his face set in an angry frown as Saber put her all into every parry, the attacks sundering the terrain, toppling power and telephone poles and ripping jagged fissures in the ground every time a strike missed. Even the nearby parked cars were sent airborne and/or shredded from the tremendous power behind the giant destroyer's swings. Between the storm of blows and the powerful shockwaves that followed each assault, Saber found herself battered about like a mouse in the paws of a cat. Her body screamed for rest, every bone in her body creaking from the assault, but her pride, her dream, made it impossible to stand down even against this juggernaut.

Shirou dodged a piece of shrapnel torn from the concrete beneath his feet as Berserker hammered Saber's guard again. He could see it, but he still couldn't believe it: despite the hopelessness of the situation, against all possible reason, the small girl continued to struggle against the giant, her blade meeting every swing sent her way, as if defeat was an impossible concept to accept. More bizarrely, her tiny frame displayed inhuman power, deflecting the worst of every swing away from her with uncanny prescience.

Something must have shifted in Saber's posture, as the formerly silent giant opened his mouth, a massive bellowing roar reverberating through the night air from within his throat. His next swing is different from all of the previous ones, an overwhelming blow physically incapable of being blocked. Despite Saber trying to parry the monster swing like she had all of the others, this one powered through her defense, barely if at all slowed by her invisible sword. With a sound akin to an artillery shell detonating, Berserker's attack finally ended, sending everything it had touched flying, including his relatively diminutive adversary. Saber sailed past both magi before finally slamming against the sidewalk and rolling heavily into a heap several yards to their left, a rent in her right side spilling blood violently onto the ground with every heartbeat.

More amazingly, and more disturbingly to Shirou, the knightly woman slowly, painfully pushed herself upright, her blue dress and silver armor grotesquely stained crimson as more blood poured from the wound. With a strained grimace of mind-bending agony warring with iron-clad determination, she managed to keep her feet, her fists clenched around her sword, which was beginning to take visible shape from the blood running down her hands and tracing along its length in red streams. The blade was stabbed into the ground, her willpower the only thing keeping her from toppling despite the weapon's added support.

Shirou took in the sight, the image of her slumped, haggard form burned into his retinas for all time. _'Why? Why is she so desperate to stand up? She can't win; we can't win! It's like… like I'll die if she doesn't stand up even now…'_ his thoughts raced while his entire body went numb. Seeing her like this, Shirou wanted nothing more than to turn back time and stop himself from participating in this madness. Saber shouldn't fight for him, nobody should! His own life was meaningless by itself; if his life was the one at stake, he was the one who should fight for it! Servant, Heroic Spirit, whatever she was, she shouldn't need to suffer in his place! It was then and only then that the full weight, the folly, of his decision crashed down upon his shoulders.

Ilya smiled happily from the hilltop as her monster of a Servant beat the tar out of the "most outstanding" of the Servant classes with almost laughable ease. After her run-in with the scowling samurai boy, part of her was worried something was wrong with Berserker to be outclassed by the seemingly human enemy. Judging from the reactions of the other Masters, Berserker was still as powerful as she hoped, meaning that only Ichigo Kurosaki was an actual threat. His existence was an anomaly, not the standard to compare her enemies to.

After sending the stubborn Knight of Swords sailing, Berserker halted. With the smile of one who knew she was untouchable, Ilya addressed her captive audience with a genuinely excited smile. "Is that all the Saber can do? You'll never beat my Berserker like that. He's the strongest hero in all of Greek history!"

Rin gulped audibly while Archer cursed to himself. If only he could get a clean shot! "Th-that means…" the magus in red managed to say, her words painfully forced.

"Yes. My Servant is the demigod known as Hercules. Your Servants aren't even close to his league," she confirmed cheerfully. "Still, I was a little worried, considering the last hero I fought was so strong." Her words brought Rin's eyes to the Einzbern's own, confusion writ large on her face. "That fire-haired samurai Onii-san was able to match and even hurt Berserker!" The thought of another being taking on Berserker and actually matching this… force of nature at the Einzbern Master's command brought Rin's mind to a screeching halt.

"I wonder who he was…" Ilya playfully tapped her chin, thoroughly enjoying the horror on the Tohsaka heir's face. "Definitely Japanese, but with such bright hair, and that distinct sword of his… a cleaver blade of all things! Whoever he was, it looks like he's the only one I need to worry about. The rest of you are all pretty pathetic," she finished, her smile brightening. "No use in keeping things from the dead, after all. Alright Berserker, we're done. She'll regenerate if we leave her like that, so rip her head off to start."

Berserker roared in what passed for understanding, his axe-club lifting as he charged the helpless blonde. As he thundered forward, Shirou's legs finally seemed to free themselves from the grip of dread, lurching into action. Despite his logic centers and his survival instinct screaming at him to run the other way, he sprinted towards Saber with the speed only lent to the truly desperate. His desire to protect, his morality, and the sheer guilt of being too weak silenced those objections even as the gap between human and Servants closed.

In the next instant, several sounds hit his ears in rapid succession: the wet squelch of torn flesh, the crack of destroyed bone, a splat, and a thud. Shirou's mind went blank as it tried to comprehend that single instant. His plan had roughly consisted of "push Saber away, dodging the attack with her and go from there." Instead… his body hit the ground, his every attempt to breathe ragged and growing more laborious. He could hear the shocked and horrified voices of Saber and Rin, and strangely even Ilya was staring in confusion tinged with something else he couldn't recognize from the distance. For some strange reason, he felt… oddly detached from the world as he looked off to the side. Blood was there, sure, but along with the surprisingly small amount were several chips of white material, likely bone, along with, judging by the path leading back into his torso, part of his small intestine, his liver, probably at least one kidney and his stomach, not to mention the other viscera in too much of a mess to be recognizable, all splattered against the asphalt. "Huh. That was… rather stupid of me," he mumbled flatly. The lack of pain was welcome. He didn't think he'd stay sane if he had to feel what had just hit him.

He had successfully managed to reach Saber, but there was no time to even push her aside as that club arced around, so Shirou had just spread his arms and braced for impact. Now, his stomach was missing, blown into that vaguely recognizable mess next to him. Rather than cursing the fact that he was dying, the accidental Master could only berate himself for failing to come through in the clutch. His entire life goal remained unfulfilled, despite everything he had done. He felt dizzy, the blood loss probably catching up with him, but he could still see and hear everything going on around him, including the dazed voice of Ilya, who had yet to move.

"…Why?" she almost whimpered as she stood there, uncomprehending. A moment of silence passed before she looked to gather herself and gave a huff. "Compared to samurai Onii-san, this is boring. Maybe the other heroes will be more interesting. Let's go," she said, her Servant returning to her side silently. "Rin, the next time we meet, I'll kill you," she added, almost like an afterthought. The moment she left, Shirou's vision faded to white. Even without his sight, he could still hear Rin screaming at him for being such an idiot, and that she couldn't fix the damage.

Shirou, in his dazed, drifting state, almost chuckled at that. Who _could_ fix this level of damage?

For a strange moment, he could swear his vision returned, looking down at his mangled corpse while a golden chain linked him to it.

* * *

Unlike the previous night, Rider didn't even get a dream before a pulling sensation drew her consciousness to full wakefulness. Again, she found herself within a sideways city, tinted red by the window before her. And again, the pale hand gripped her wrist, leading through to the man garbed in the coat of darkness. The figure regarded her critically for a second, his expression grim before taking a step forward, the red barrier crackling and hissing angrily at the attempted intrusion for every inch his arm pushed through. As if in reply, the shadows that made up his coat flared outward like black, tattered wings, the sudden, unnatural movement almost making Rider flinch into a defensive stance. Where the shadows touched the barrier, red magical energy coruscated against equal amounts of blue-white energy reminiscent of her Master's Getsuga Tenshou technique.

The two forces competed for several seconds, the darkness digging into the red barrier in a circle tall enough for either entity to step through. Finally, the blackness carved its way deeply enough for a ring of the red barrier to be cut away, fading to nothingness in the space of the ring, revealing the man's pale form, his expression stoic despite the amount of energy he must have needed to unleash to enter this space. "_Can you hear me, Rider?_" he said slowly, his clear, baritone voice resonating as though he were in a vast, empty cavern.

"I can. Who are you?" Rider replied, noting that the figure had yet to release her wrist and that the blackness of his coat was visibly trembling to hold the red barrier open.

The figure narrowed his eyes as if slighted. "_I cannot give my name to one who is unwilling to do the same for her allies,_" he stated tersely.

Rider's expression remained unreadable, but she tensed slightly, ready to spring to the attack. Where did this man (or was he a spirit?) come from, and what kind of introduction was that? "I do not know you. How can I possibly entrust you with my name?" she countered levelly.

If anything, the figure looked even more annoyed. "_I am not speaking of myself. I speak of your Master whom you have sworn your loyalty to, yet have not given your full trust._"

"How do you know my Master? What do you want?"

She took note that the hole he had opened in the red barrier was shrinking with every passing second. It wouldn't be long before they would lose contact, a fact that did not escape the taller man, as he looked square into her hidden eyes, his expression grim. "_Our time is limited, so I'll keep this short for now. As Ichigo's partner, I am less than pleased with the turmoil your contract has forced upon him._"

'_Partner?_' Rider remained stone still, trying to choose her words carefully. She heard him, but it was starting to get increasingly difficult to do so, as the smaller the hole in the barrier became, the more static-like interference began to muffle his voice. "How do you know him?"

Rather suddenly, the world dissolved into another room, right side up, she noted. "_Later. For now, I want to impress upon you the length his trust runs, a trust I expect you to return. It begins ■ere: the night his w■rld chan■ed._" Despite the connection getting worse, she understood enough to realize that she was seeing a memory, the two spirits standing as invisible spectators in the corner of the room. What kind of being has the power to show another's memories so clearly?

Rider watched as Ichigo leaned wearily against the closed door, pointedly ignoring the ghostly man hovering by him. He looked… less worldly, but more agitated. She didn't understand until Ichigo's voice, an echo of a thought, resounded through her mind. _"Yeah, I've always been able to see ghosts. That's why… the existence of Soul Reapers… never crossed my mind."_ The words made little sense until a black butterfly flitted by Ichigo's head, landing on the wall above his desk, drawing his attention. And then, in the midst of white light, Rukia appeared, stepping off of the desk with unflinching focus, her steely eyes paying the boy no mind. Realization hit her hard, even as the black-clad man's eyes softened at the scene playing before them.

Rider was watching Ichigo's first meeting with Rukia.

The difference was mind-blowing. Ichigo had obviously changed, but Rukia… it was like she was a completely different person back then, more stern and professional to the point of stoicism. That thought dissolved as she watched the two have the first of their endless arguments, complete with the orange-haired teen kicking the girl in the backside for her intrusion and for ignoring him and the petite swordswoman locking his arms behind his back with a spell. Seeing Ichigo assess her drawings as bluntly as she had when she explained her duties was one sight that made the Servant laugh softly. Rukia hadn't really changed at all, and Ichigo had matured immensely while remaining the same person at his core. She would need to ask Ichigo about his father, who had attacked him minutes into his conversation, but was blown off like it was a normal thing: that man seemed completely insane, not to mention spiritually blind.

She watched as Ichigo took on the ogre-like Hollow with no powers, just determination to protect his family, only to be backhanded contemptuously as the Hollow tightened its grip on a small girl, one of two who addressed the teen as "brother." Rider winced and tensed to fight back the memories pressing their way forward within her own mind. Part of her wished this was more than a memory, that she could interfere and kill that Hollow right there. Then, as a memory of Rukia taking a vicious blow played out, she saw Ichigo make a life-changing decision with a girl he had met less than an hour ago, letting her stab him with her sword in the heart to gain the power necessary to protect his family, being blown from his body in his Soul Reaper form, an oversized sword on his shoulder in place of the familiar cleaver. Though he was obviously not as powerful then as he was now, he still showed no fear as he cut down the monster in the name of his family.

'_All for his family…'_ Rider could only stare straight at where the deputy Soul Reaper's first battle had taken place even as it faded to nothingness and returned to the sideways city. She only just registered that the hole the shadow man had opened in the barrier was mostly closed. Ichigo was like her in a way she could scarcely believe…

"_Ic■ig■ may be wil__in■ ■■ gi■e y■u the b■n■fi■ of th■ do■■t, bu■ if y■u betray hi■, I will strike you down without mercy,_" the man who had been her guide threatened slowly as he applied just a little more pressure to his grip, his last words emphasized somehow to get through the interference. With that, he released her wrist, sending her mind straight to the real world.

As she stared restlessly at the ceiling of her and Tatsuki's room, Rider played over the scenes she had witnessed over and over again. Ichigo became what he is for the purpose of protecting his family, going from a spiritually aware but otherwise normal human to a swordsman which, according to Rukia, hadn't even been a full year ago. It was hard to believe someone could grow so strong so quickly. Hell, it seemed impossible, but the proof was sleeping in the master bedroom two doors down the hall. If he gained his power for his family, what drove him now? Did he have another reason for fighting? Sitting upright, she noted that it was almost two in the morning. Sighing somewhat, she slipped off of the bed. As much as it bothered her to admit it, the stranger in black who called himself Ichigo's partner was right. Her Master was putting at least as much trust in her as he did Rukia the day they met, and still knew nothing about her, not even her own name.

Stepping into the hall, she silently moved towards the master bedroom, her stoic expression and purposeful strides hiding her nervous thoughts. How would her Master react to who she was? Her past was a sea of blood and hate, and her name would bring all to the fore. Still, Ichigo had a right to know, and trying to hide it would only make it harder later. She paused briefly before his door before slipping inside as silently as a snake, Ichigo having not locked the door. _'Oddly careless of him. He must have been more exhausted than he let on.'_ Admittedly, it had been an extremely long day for everyone. _'No, it more than likely has to do with the amount of trust he places in his companions,'_ she corrected herself.

Unbeknownst to her, the door across the hall silently swung open, the sun-shaped face of Kon watching Rider as she eased the door closed behind her. '_Now WHAT do we have here?_' he grinned at the images that could potentially play out behind the heavy door. Temptation overwhelmed his already fragile will, and Kon crept up to the door, noting that it wasn't closed all the way. _'Ah, how lucky! The goddess is not all-seeing!' _Peeking in with the silent skill of a veteran, he hoped to catch sight of more of the lavender-haired goddess's inhumanly perfect form as she approached the side of the bed. Any second now, she would remove that lovely little black dress and boots. The images running through his head contorted his expression into a dopey grin mixed with the steely eyes of a sentinel as he watched.

Rider had no intention of fulfilling any of Kon's fantasies, looking down at her sleeping Master. A small smile made its way to her face. He looked… peaceful, a far cry from the unyielding scowl he always wore while awake. No wariness, no constant vigil for enemies both physical and spiritual invaded his sleep. He just looked like a normal, orange-haired boy free from the cares and worries of life… _'And the afterlife,'_ she mentally added. Seeing him so helpless and relaxed quieted Rider's formerly racing thoughts, and she suddenly found the idea of robbing Ichigo of his hard-earned rest a heinous crime. Soundlessly, she turned back to the door, her expression as calm and blank as always. She could tell him her name when he was well-rested.

While disappointed with the lack of fanservice, Kon had the presence of mind to leap up towards one of the decorative indentations in the wall when Rider began to leave, only to feel something jerk him back to the carpet with a squeak. "Huh?" As if by magic, he found himself lifted into the air, the uncomfortable sensation of something encircling his stomach accompanied a snake-like hiss from above him. Rider stepped before him, her hand appearing to hold something despite nothing being visible.

"Kon, did you honestly think it would be possible to sneak up on a Servant?" she drawled quietly after closing the door tightly.

In a remarkable display of inspiration, Kon had a believable excuse ready for this situation. "Hey, what was I supposed to think when you sneak into Ichigo's room in the dead of night? For all I knew, you might have been preparing to assassinate him or something!" he kept his voice down, but still pointed an accusing cloth claw at Rider's face, though he had his eyes focused on her voluptuous chest. It was times like this that he was glad he had doll's eyes: it was hard for others to tell where exactly he was focusing his gaze at times. Only a supreme act of willpower prevented drool from giving him away.

Rider's wrist twitched, and a nail-like dagger faded into view in her seemingly empty hand, the long chain at the end of the spiked loop at its pommel leading up to a hollow in the decorative arch before dropping back and wrapping around Kon's waist. The serpentine hissing was from the links of the chain grinding against the arch they were hanging on whenever the chain moved. "Oh? And why would you be awake and keeping vigil at this time of night? You weren't planning to slip into one of the other rooms, were you?"

Kon grunted, the thought too enticing (and true) to flatly deny.

"The fact remains that neither of us is supposed to be up at this time save in an emergency. If you return to your room and don't bring this up, I will do the same. Is that fair?"

Mulling over it, images of Tatsuki cracking her knuckles angrily filled Kon's little plush form with the cold dread of the grave, and he nodded. Instantly, the chain uncoiled, and he dropped back to the ground softly. "…Fine. But I'm watching you!" he grunted as he regained his feet.

"And Inoue-san and Kuchiki-san and Arisawa-san," Rider added dryly without missing a beat as she returned to her shared room, turning to make sure Kon retreated to the boys' room. Thankfully no one had woken up to investigate the situation. Rider's last thoughts before sleep claimed her were on how her Master would react to learning that his Servant was a legendary monster. Strangely, she found it difficult to envision fear or revulsion crossing his features.

* * *

Far off in the southern section of Miyama, ensconced amongst the western-style mansions of the more wealthy residents, a particularly fine three-story house, normally a quiet and pleasant-looking home known in the neighborhood for the extremely private master of the house, was giving off an almost palpable aura of rage like an angry flame within its confines. This house was the fortress of the Matou family, and the aura was centered on the basement where a single small figure brooded, a dark lord in his throne room. Shriveled, slim, and short, the pale man looked too frail to be such a beacon of power and rage, but anyone with the slightest sensitivity to the mood would feel nothing but fear at the black flame of disgust and anger the man was radiating.

This ancient magus, Zouken Matou, had witnessed the decay of his family's magic bloodline, growing more and more frustrated with each passing year as his dreams of immortality slipped through his gnarled fingers. Even with his skill at prolonging his life, he doubted he would live to see another War after the fiasco that was the Fourth, and then, miraculously, fifty years before he expected the next Holy Grail War to begin, the signs appeared for the next battle, a gift from heaven, it seemed. As always, he ensured that one of his family members participated, his adoptive granddaughter in this case. The girl's magical potential was quite impressive for her age, and he had no doubts that she had the skill to summon a powerful Servant, thanks to his rigorous tutelage.

Imagine his shock and fury when the summoning was hijacked by an outside force. As the girl chanted out the pact, an overwhelming cyclone of power pulled at the summoning circle from outside, completely and utterly drowning out the mana poured into the spell with its own strength, the gap in raw power so wide that even Zouken found himself breaking into a cold sweat. Whether by accident or by design, someone had completely taken control of the summoning ritual, the interloper's power and offering a far greater sacrifice than the Matou heir's own. As much as it galled him, Zouken could not rightly blame anyone for this unexpected twist, as no entity he had encountered in his tremendously long life had such raw power other than a genuine Sorcerer, and a magus couldn't usually oppose a miracle-bearer's will without sufficient planning.

However, this knowledge was of no use in quelling his rage, so he had quietly dismissed his heir and gave his disgrace of a grandson carte blanche to do as he saw fit with the girl. Combined with the pain of bearing the Crest Worms, her agony would be sufficient for the moment. He pushed those thoughts from his mind, instead bending the full scope of his intellect to the riddle of what he could do to regain control of the situation. He had contingencies in place for this War, but they were originally intended for in case of a complete failure by his representative.

Even more infuriating, he couldn't initiate any of these plans until the War took its first casualties. He knew of secrets to become a Master himself, but he needed a slot among the active Masters. The night the ritual failed, he had called Kirei Kotomine, and was rather frustrated with what he learned:

"_Kotomine, my representative was unable to summon a Servant. It seems that one of the Masters generated a stronger presence and took control of the summoning at the moment the offering of a symbol was to take place. How many does that make?"_

_On the other end of the line, the priest shuffled through some papers, likely his records on the Masters that had checked in. "Six. The only class yet to be filled is the Saber. However, I doubt that your representative would be able to handle such a summoning."_

"_What are you implying?"_

"_Simple, old friend," the mediator drawled with thinly veiled sarcasm. "The last Master has already been chosen by the Grail. Unless you can find him or her and take control of their Servant or make them dance to your will, you are going to have to make due as a spectator for now."_

"_Unacceptable!" Zouken had roared, his familiars slithering jerkily in reflection of his black mood. The slight chuckle from the other end made Zouken wonder if he was going to have a stroke from how hard he was trying to control his flagging temper._

"_I never said you wouldn't be able to participate eventually, Matou-dono," Kirei soothed. "Normally, there would be nothing I could do, but there _is_ a loophole you could exploit. Even though there are six Servants at the moment, there are only five human Masters."_

_Zouken's wrinkled face dropped into a deeper frown at the revelation, but all he said was, "Go on."_

"_The Assassin is currently operating under the command of the Caster. Should either of those Servants fall, the fact that a human Master was denied a position means that another_ human_ magus would immediately become available to take over the vacancy."_

"_Ah, the 'Seven and Seven' failsafe." Among the many of the Grails failsafe traits was a rule that prevented Masters from simply summoning multiple Servants to reduce competition. As such, the Grail promoted balance by requiring seven Masters and seven Servants. A Servant in control of another Servant did not count as a Master for this failsafe, meaning that if the Servant lost control of its own Servant, then a human Master could enter in their place to bring the final count to seven Masters. "If that is indeed the case, it would be best to prepare right away."_

"_Do not rush, my friend. As eager as you are, you can't interfere until the vacancy opens. Have patience."_

_The priest had gotten rather good at pressing other's buttons, the old magus noted as he bit back the temptation to go blast that man's church into a smoldering wreck. As cathartic as it would likely be, Kirei was still a trained exorcist of the Holy Church, and thus had the skills and equipment to kill him, or at least tax his old bones and Magic Circuits beyond what he was comfortable risking. "Do not speak of patience to me, Kirei Kotomine," he growled lowly._

"_Apologies. If it will lend you some comfort, I can arrange for a representative of yours to receive the services of… an old friend within the week."_

_Zouken understood immediately who this old "friend" was and his weathered face twisted into a parody of a smile. "Make it so. I will NOT be denied any longer."_

While not necessarily bad news, the conversation essentially translated to the Matou family head spending an indefinite amount of time sitting on his hands with no say in the outcome of the Fifth Holy Grail War, a frustrating outcome. Without a Servant under the Matou family's command, they were ineligible to take the Grail once it was complete. With a scowl, the magus head of the Matou line made his decision. He would spend the opening act behind the curtain until the chance presented itself. To make up for the lost time, Zouken knew he would need to work quickly, and for that he needed a vast amount of mana and, more importantly, a ready vessel for the Grail's spirit. He had access to both, but now it was time to begin preparations. Until then, he would let his grandson play the dangerous role of Master to keep him informed, even if he was generally useless.

More of his oily black familiars slithered about, his will drawing them back to this dank basement. While his worms were quite low on the scale of power compared to other potential familiars, his mastery over them allowed him to harness thousands upon thousands of them, each able to store minute amounts of mana for his use. Once they were all pulled from their hiding spots, he would begin the plan to destroy every last obstacle, and finally, finally claim the prize that should have been his so long ago.

* * *

Morning came too early for Ichigo and his _nakama_. Sleep was one of those few things to draw any semblance of peace for them anymore, but duty called, and one by one the group convened in the kitchen, Ichigo being the first up and moving. The orange-haired warrior felt more refreshed today than he had the last few days, as his dream was relatively peaceful, though he still could make little sense of its meaning. Unlike the last few dreams, this one was done from a different perspective, that of a man visiting a temple of some kind, an open-air, stone structure reminiscent of ancient Mediterranean architecture.

_He always kept his head down once he entered, praying to the three goddesses of their lands to bless the fields for a good crop. He was rather surprised when one of them, the tallest of the three, offered to accompany him to the fields personally. Such an honor would never have been granted to the followers of the other gods! The dream was mundane, with the quiet but gentle goddess (whom he did not permit himself to look upon) watching him work, her own hands helping till the soil despite her greater standing. Her kindness touched him, and he vowed to worship the three for the rest of his days._

Snapping his thoughts from his dream, the Soul Reaper switched gears to the current dilemma from last night. With Ichigo having been attacked, a bit of a meeting was called over breakfast. Sitting down with their respective meals, Rider watched in a mix of awe and revulsion as Orihime devoured the bizarre mess in her bowl. "Inoue-san, what are you having?" she asked, slightly afraid of the answer. The rest of the group made sure to swallow their current bites before the brunette replied. In all likelihood hearing the dish would cause them to spit out or choke on whatever was in their mouths.

"One of my favorites: a hot bowl of soba mixed with mustard, sliced banana and red pepper, shredded Swiss cheese, and topped with a dollop of sour cream!" she explained happily, turning the majority of the table's occupants greener with each ingredient. Only the comfort of not having to eat that culinary catastrophe soothed their stomachs enough to let them continue their meals. "Anyone want a bite? It's really good!"

Each politely declined, carefully tiptoeing around the girl's endless generosity while trying not to sound too eager about it. Orihime didn't mind in the least, slurping up more noodles with a bright smile. Rukia coughed into her hand to get the attention of the group. "We need to discuss our plans in more detail. First off, I should be receiving a reply to my first report early this evening, so we should have more specific instructions on how to handle this situation then. More urgently, last night Ichigo encountered another Master and Servant team."

Ichigo nodded and retrieved Kotomine's book from the coffee table and sat back down, clenching his toast between his teeth as he flipped to the page on the madman that had tried to squash him like a grape. Passing it to Chad on his right, each member of the group took a moment to take in the data within its pages, with varying reactions. Uryu visibly grimaced at the description of God Hand, while Tatsuki just looked as lost as Rukia had been last night by the ranking system behind everything. "Berserker's all power and still damn quick, but can't even think straight, just swing that club around. As near as I can guess, he's easily got as much raw power as Jidanbo, even more if he could focus on something other than killing. The real issue is the speed of his swings: he swings as fast as I do in Shikai, and the guy just never gets tired," Ichigo elaborated once the book had started changing hands.

"What's his Master like?" Tatsuki ventured.

Ichigo's frown deepened once he finished his glass of milk. "It's like some maniac crossed Yuzu with a Hollow with that girl. Spiritually aware, too."

"Do we even want to know?" Chad asked, looking rather unnerved at the image, not that anyone outside this group would have really been able to tell.

"A little albino psycho who asked me to play with her in the middle of the night. When I said no, she tried to literally have her Servant land on my head. Guy dropped out of thin air, probably hiding as a spirit on a rooftop."

"And this 'God Hand' ability?" Uryu pressed.

"Took a Shikai Getsuga Tenshou at half strength but didn't drop. He healed over in seconds, so I'd probably need to go all out in Bankai to beat him all twelve times. If I don't take him down all at once, he'll likely be immune to the Getsuga Tenshou by the time he gets to his last life."

Rider drew everyone's attention when she added her knowledge to the group. "Berserker's Noble Phantasm is not that straightforward. While Ichigo's sword is an A-rank, don't assume matching that output will pierce his protection. It seems that you might be using the raw power behind an attack as a measure, but Noble Phantasms do not follow the standard rules of reality."

The group looked at her blankly, silently prompting her to continue. "A Noble Phantasm follows its own rules. Since those rules state that an attack must surpass B-rank to do damage, this means that even if you have a technique as destructive as a Noble Phantasm, unless the actual rank of the attack is A or higher, it won't matter."

"What determines an attack's rank, anyway?" Rukia asked.

"Several factors: power is one, but so is the significance of it to the user, the strength of the weapon's legend, and its Authority."

Uryu adjusted his glasses in interest. "Authority?"

"A method of measuring the _significance_ of a weapon or ability. Weapons forged by gods are always superior to those forged by man even if their power is equal, and those that channel a user's willpower will trump an equally destructive ability that simply unleashes energy. Sufficient Authority can even silence a power with greater destructive force."

Uryu crossed his arms as he considered this particular angle. "A peculiar way of classifying it, but it makes sense." The real question was how strong the Authority behind their own techniques was.

"There is no real easy way to measure the Authority of a technique unless you know the history of the weapon and where it draws its power. Just be on guard if you must meet a Noble Phantasm head on."

The assembled teens plus one Soul Reaper all nodded. In other words, matching the fury of an attack wouldn't guarantee an equal outcome. If a Servant's legendary weapon had greater Authority than their own will, they could still be overpowered. "Well on _that_ cheery note, what now? Patrols haven't really gotten us much so far," Tatsuki pointed out.

"On the contrary, Arisawa-san. We have several locations to investigate in greater detail, as well as a feel for the physical and spiritual activity level of the city in various areas at most hours of the day and night. While we may not have encountered any enemies aside from the occasional Hollow, now we have genuine, accurate information on our battlefields and some of our enemies, something distinctly lacking in our last battles," Uryu replied. "The question is how we intend to handle each area. The biggest two points to investigate are the forest south of Shinto, and Ryuudou Temple in Miyama."

Rukia shook her head. "Later, once we have more information. Our primary concern should be the Masters and Servants who are feeding on souls. The mission is to protect Fuyuki's souls, so we need to shut down the Servants' feeding options if at all possible. At least one of the Servants can feed from a distance. Its spirit ribbon was caustic to other ribbons, using them to pull souls out of their bodies and absorb their spirit particles. Trying to track it via touch caused violent backlash that nearly melted my hand, so that method is out."

Orihime paled while Tatsuki clenched her fist in barely restrained anger. The tomboy remembered all too well the feeling of a soul being involuntarily ripped from its body, having barely survived Yammy's soul-sucking technique back when she was just starting to learn what Ichigo was doing when he up and vanished. The rest of the group shifted in their seats, their eyes steeling like the hardened warriors they had forged themselves into.

Uryu spoke up, his tone measured. "Last night there was also a brief release of spirit energy followed by an implosion of the same energy." As he explained, the Quincy retrieved a map and a pen, circling a small section in northwestern Miyama. "The sheer intensity of the distortion caused by the implosion combined with the distance made it impossible to pinpoint, but I believe another Servant has been summoned somewhere in this area. If we are looking for another Master and Servant team, this area would be our best bet."

A little light went off in Ichigo's head and he snapped his fingers. "So _that's_ what that was. I felt that during my fight with Berserker. The Master must have picked up on it, too: she called Berserker off immediately afterwards."

Nodding, Rukia stood up. "For safety, we best split into only two teams today. With the Masters beginning to make their moves, we can expect more conflict, and we need to be able to defend not only ourselves, but bystanders," she suggested. It was a sound plan, and now came, in Ichigo's mind, the "fun" part: who went with who? While the logic of Rider being Ichigo's Servant and responsibility solidified her position, that still left at least one other person to tag along with them, maybe two. Uryu, being the second fastest, and Chad, being the second strongest, would be on the other team, leaving the three girls. It was eventually decided that Orihime and Tatsuki would accompany Ichigo through Shinto, while the rest would cross the river to Miyama, where Uryu and Rukia could track the signatures of the summoning and the battles with their greater skill in that field. Hopefully this would also keep Berserker and his Master from spotting Ichigo again and picking a fight in the middle of the street.

With the agreement to meet up at the Verde, a shopping centre barely a fifteen minute walk from the Shinto side of the bridge for lunch, the group departed the penthouse. Kon was stuffed into Ichigo's knapsack in case things got out of hand, no one begrudging the boy for not wanting to carry him around openly, nor the girls for being leery of the mod soul. The toy had protested mightily… until Tatsuki silenced him with a stomp to the stomach, driving the wind out of whatever passed for lungs in the perverted plushy.

* * *

While the Karakura team prepared to track their elusive and numerous foes, Illyasviel von Einzbern opted to stay inside her castle that managed to stay hidden from the residents of Fuyuki despite its enormous size and being only a few miles away. She wasn't terribly concerned about missing anything; her familiars were scattered throughout all of Fuyuki City, and she could easily access their senses within her own mind the moment one of them picked up on anything of interest. So far, no tell-tale shocks of orange hair had snagged her attention.

Currently, she was swinging her legs in an overstuffed, high-backed chair as she flipped through another of the large tomes within the castle library, several more sitting on the wooden desk before her in several stacks each nearly two feet tall. From the moment she woke up this morning, her mind had been racing with thoughts of the samurai teen that went toe-to-toe with Berserker and clearly outmatched him. With the vast repository of lore at her disposal, she had no doubts that the boy's nature and its weaknesses could be found within one of the books. With an order to her maids to bring her breakfast in the study, she set to work.

Much to her chagrin, wherever the secrets to the orange-haired swordsman's nature lay, they were well hidden. Having gotten up shortly after sunup, Ilya had devoted several hours already to her study, and hadn't found a single thing. Quite frankly, the girl was more than a little edgy from her lack of progress, half-tempted to yank on her hair to keep focused. Strewn about the massive room were more stacks of books that had contained nothing of use, and now her two maids had been tasked with re-shelving them and fetching any potentially relevant volumes.

She tried looking up samurai legends first off, wondering if Ichigo was a reincarnated spirit of a hero. No matches or even similar heroic figures.

Then, she tried looking up records of magic and lore around his "Getsuga Tenshou" spell or Noble Phantasm. Her family's library was severely lacking in that department as well.

Currently, the Einzbern Master was leafing through a treatise on the nature of Guardian Spirits, but she was having a hard time placing Ichigo in that category. Most obviously supporting this thought was that the swordsman lacked the animal-like qualities that defined such spirits. "Sella-chan, fetch me Volume 4," she called out.

"Yes, Ilya-sama," the slimmer of the white maids replied. Both of Ilya's maids were red-eyed women of pale complexion, much like Ilya herself. Dressed identically in long white dresses with a black undershirt visible in the shape of a spade over their chests and stomachs, the two maids could only be distinguished in their uniforms by the curly strands of pale blond hair poking out from under the hood of Leysritt and their respective builds. Sella, Ilya's magic tutor as well as a maid, was slender, almost petite and tended to have a stricter countenance despite genuinely caring for her master's well-being. Her partner, Leysritt, took a sisterly role and focused more on Ilya's happiness and protection. While still slender, she had a much larger bustline, even larger than Orihime's. With a normally relaxed, almost sleepy expression, the girl was warm and kind by nature despite being physically as strong as a Servant and a skilled fighter with her halberd.

While she waited for the tome, Ilya threw her head back and groaned, her small hands scratching the sides of her head in obvious irritation. "Gah! This is so boring and FRUSTRATING! There has to be _something_ about the kind of spirit Berry-oniisan is!"

Sella placed the heavy tome on Ilya's desk with a "thump" and picked up the book Ilya had slid aside. A dozen yards away, Leysritt quietly picked up a four-foot stack of books and moved to the wood frame behind the desk to reshelf them like they were nothing more than a handful of feathers. In her quest for knowledge, Ilya had gathered texts of all kinds and ended up scattering them all about the library as more and more leads dissolved.

After placing the book back on the proper shelf with its series, Sella returned to the little girl's side. "Ilya-sama, shouldn't you be focusing on the Holy Grail War? Whoever this boy is, he's distracting you."

Ilya puffed her cheeks at the older-looking woman, clearly annoyed. "But that's just it! He's a Master, but he didn't even need to bring out his own Servant to take on Berserker! He's the biggest threat to winning by far, so I'm completely focused! "

Sella nearly lost her balance at the information. It certainly explained why her mistress was so dead-set on this matter, but still… "Are you sure he wasn't a Servant himself?"

"If he was, I'd have found something in the legends of this country about a fire-haired samurai. Still, I don't think anyone can just swallow a pill and split into two people. Not only did he do that, but the normal-dressed one wasn't acting like the same person, but almost like a familiar. It felt like the swordsman that he became was one huge Magic Circuit that never stopped channeling prana!"

To Ilya's credit, Sella couldn't think of any spells or tricks with familiars that fit the description, even with her almost encyclopedic knowledge of spell mechanics. Still, the maid offered an alternative, if not a very good one. "Maybe he was just releasing a large number of pre-cast spells at once?"

"I know what I saw, Sella-chan. He only used one technique that could be called a spell, and it was more like a Noble Phantasm. I checked though, and I can't find anything on a 'Getsuga Tenshou' as a spell or a legendary weapon," the magus pouted.

"Pretty name. 'Moon Fang. Piercer of the Heavens,'" Leysritt commented as she returned to Ilya's side opposite of her partner. Despite her intelligence, a strange but oddly endearing speech impediment kept the bodyguard's sentences short and halting. Ilya didn't mind, so neither did Sella.

"Isn't it?" Ilya beamed in total agreement before returning to her thoughts. "Anyway, Onii-san was crazy strong and even acted like he wasn't bothered by Berserker's God Hand! If we don't find something to counter him, we'll have a rough time winning the War."

Both maids nodded and returned to the shelves, seeking more information on this mysterious enemy. Ilya poured over the book Sella had retrieved for her, but soon found her thoughts wandering, likely from having to focus on something for so long with no progress. _'Ichigo Kurosaki… you're making things much trickier for me. With you wandering around, I can't just send Berserker out to pound everyone without risking my chances. Still, that just makes it more fun… right, Berserker?'_ After a moment of silence, a small smile made its way to her face. _'Well, he _was_ pretty cool… his eyes were so pretty and intense, and he was handsome; his hair was so bright like a flower, too. Even his scowls were cute! He wasn't like anyone I've ever met; he didn't fear Berserker, and was so much fun to play with! I'm looking forward to seeing him again… Berry-Onii-chan' _Unbeknownst to Ilya at the time, her cheeks had gained a slight tinge of pink.

Elsewhere, Ichigo suddenly sneezed. "'Scuse me."


	9. Masked Machinations: Part II

AN: I LIIIIVE! Sorry I fell behind on my updating, but at long last, I've graduated! I'm finally done, and now the working world awaits… yay. Regardless, I'll try to update regularly, and I thank every one of you who reviewed, favorited or even just read this whole thing through. Thanks to Logan- Murder of Crows for all his help in beta-ing each chapter and to all who sent me their enthusiastic ideas.

Lastly, I wanted to give everyone a quick heads-up: next chapter, I will be changing this fic's title to something a bit more original: Fate/Black Reflection

_Masked Machinations: Part II_

_The air was clear, calm and characteristic of Fuyuki that winter night: mild, but with just the slightest bit of bite to make one wear warmer clothes. Shirou sat next to his adoptive father on the back porch, watching the beautiful full moon overhead. For a man who traveled so often, it was unusual for Kiritsugu Emiya to be home as long as he had been. Sitting in a pale grey yukata, the man, once active, hale and strong, barely moved anymore, his dark brown eyes always seeming somewhat glassy, like he wasn't entirely in the present anymore._

_In the future, Shirou would always regret his ignorance: how could he have been so blind to his father's signs? He should have _known_ that the man was dying!_

_Shirou couldn't recall how long they sat there, enjoying the fragile-looking moon's glow surrounding it in a halo of dark blue in the otherwise black sky, but after a while, his father spoke. "When I was young, I wanted to be a hero of justice." To the boy, it was odd: wasn't his father exactly that? Why did he sound like he had failed?_

"_What do you mean, Tou-san? Don't tell me you gave up?"Shirou demanded, the very _thought_ of his father "giving up" an absolute affront._

_Chuckling somewhat, Kiritsugu waved off his anger with a slight smile. Turning back to the moon, the magus's tone shifted to one of mild regret. "I guess… I did. Being a hero isn't something you can do all your life, and when you get older, it becomes harder and harder to call yourself that. Looking back, I wished I figured that out sooner."_

_Facing the moon himself, Shirou could only nod. No matter how much he might not want to, or whether he even understood, if his father said it in that tone, he couldn't help but agree with his statement in the depths of his heart. "Huh. I guess you can't help it, right?"_

"_No… I guess I can't," the older man replied with a wistful sigh._

_Grinning and facing his dad with eyes alight with heartfelt determination, Shirou made his declaration. "Well, in that case, I'll pick up where you left off. If you can't handle it anymore, I'll take up your dream! I'll make it happen with all my strength!"_

_Midway through his proclamation, his father laughed, a smile on his face like he knew the rest without needing to hear it. It wasn't particularly strong or even very loud, but it had more heart behind it than Shirou had seen in his father in a very long time. Reclining as if planning to take a nap on the porch, the man's eyes drifted shut slowly, his last words a slight breath: "I'm relieved to hear that, Shirou." Shirou smiled and headed back inside. He looked so peaceful that the boy came back out with a blanket and laid it over his father before going to bed on that silent night. He'd wake him up in the morning for breakfast._

_Kiritsugu Emiya would never open his eyes again._

_In hindsight, it was nothing more than denial on Shirou's part. His eyes burned, but he didn't cry, as if part of him knew the truth, but the rest wouldn't accept it. Maybe he just had seen too much death _that_ day to cry anymore. All he could remember was that even though he didn't sob, the tears didn't stop flowing until the moon sank below the horizon. After that, Shirou had never shed a tear again for five years._

_And so, in those five years, Shirou continued to live in his father's house alone, putting his all into fulfilling his father's dream. He would save people, just like his father had saved him. He would be there for them, the way his father had been there in that inferno. He would become the hero of justice his father hoped to be._

_The only question was: how?_

With a sharp jolt, Shirou opened his eyes and bolted upright, gazing upon a familiar room in the pre-dawn darkness. As empty as it always was (Shirou's lifestyle and personal philosophy meant he spent more time training and working than adding things to his room), it had never felt more comforting. Reflecting on his dream, the redhead briefly wondered on what triggered the memory before a wave of nausea churned through his insides. "Urg… my mouth… tastes like blood," he assessed as he staggered upright, his vision swimming in tandem with his stomach. With his mind all a jumble, he couldn't exactly recall why he felt like someone had poured molten lead down his throat at the moment.

In an attempt to curb his dizziness, he leaned on the wall and stumbled his way to the bathroom. Simply moving brought more pain and nausea to him, but he made it. With a few minutes of washing up, Shirou's addled brain focused back to proper function and the sick feeling dropped down to at least tolerable levels. "Much better," he sighed in relief. Scratching his stomach slightly, he noted something odd and lifted his blue and white shirt. "Huh? How did those get there?" he wondered as he eyed the bandages wrapped around his midsection.

Well, if he had them, there must have been a reason, right? Right. Instead of trying to puzzle it out, Shirou shrugged, lowered his shirt and meandered with a slightly steadier gait towards the kitchen, his body craving energy. "What the hell happened last night?" he groaned miserably.

Whatever he did, he must have _really_ been feeling like utter crap, as he had apparently left the living room light on all night. _'That's really going to crank up the energy bill this month,'_ he mentally groaned. Fuji-nee and Sakura were nowhere in sight, so he must have still managed to wake up before they visited. Sadly, that also meant that there was no breakfast to greet him. He took two steps towards the kitchen before he noticed the person sitting on one of the cushions that ringed his table.

"Good morning, Emiya-kun. Sorry for the intrusion," the raven-haired school idol, Rin Tohsaka greeted him calmly.

Blinking twice, Shirou could only seat himself with a stupefied expression. "Er, Tohsaka, why-"

The crystal-blue eyes of the girl shifted to a harsh, angry glare as she cut him off. "Don't start, Emiya-kun. Right now, just apologize for last night before we get any further."

"Last night? What do you…" Shirou's voice trailed off as the memories were dredged up. Considering their content, part of him wished he had never remembered. He could clearly recall the lead-colored giant, the horribly one-sided battle, and most clearly of all, Saber, the blue and silver knight leaning on her sword, blood running in rivulets down the blade of the otherwise unseen weapon and pouring endlessly from her split open side. He could still vividly recall the pain on her face, even as her emerald eyes remained sharp and focused. Nausea returned with the vengeance, nearly doubling him over at the image of his own splattered organs on the concrete. His insides felt like they had shriveled at the memory, furthering his discomfort.

Taking all this into account, how the heck was he still alive with Rin Tohsaka staring him down like he owed her money? Another memory hit him, and he swiftly tugged at his collar, peering down his shirt. No golden chain… "What the hell? I'm alive after all of that? How is that even possible?"

"Now that you're actually thinking, let's review the cold, hard facts: you were a complete idiot last night," Rin harrumphed and crossed her arms, her head turned in indignation.

Switching gears, Shirou launched a glare of his own. "Well, what was I supposed to do; let Saber die? I'm not that kind of person!"

"…Idiot…" his fellow magus sighed. "Protecting your Servant with your life is meaningless: without a Master, Servants vanish anyway. If you die, so do they. It's a moot point."

"Hey, don't act like I was throwing my life away. I didn't plan on it, but that's just the way it worked out."

"So you thought you could survive if you threw yourself right in front of Berserker?" she countered coolly, forcing Shirou to snap his mouth shut in annoyance. He never harbored that belief for even a microsecond, and they both knew it. "Listen, I didn't help you because I wanted you to win, but you strike as the type to simply run out without thinking. I was trying to help you survive on your own once we parted ways."

"'Help me survive?' What do you mean?"

"Exactly as it sounds. I was hoping that the threat of facing me and other Masters would make you less willing to put your life at risk. I'd say that backfired."

"Huh. I guess that's logical," Shirou muttered to himself before creasing his brow in thought. "Anyway, why are you so angry? I was the one who was 'a complete idiot' in the first place."

"Of COURSE it bothers me! You had me worried the whole night!" Rin snapped, her glare practically smoldering. Suitably cowed and quietly touched by her concern, Shirou bowed his head, thanking her and apologizing for his recklessness. The fiery magus turned her head and accepted tersely, though her posture lost a lot of its tension. Settling down with a more peaceable expression, she leaned forward and rested her arms on the table. "All right, now that that's done, we're on to more pressing matters. Where do you want to start?"

Taking a moment to organize his thoughts, Shirou opted to start simple. "Uh… I guess with what happened after I was… pretty much killed. What happened afterwards?"

"Oddly, they left. She just… lost interest and dubbed the fight 'boring' before calling back Berserker and leaving us there without another word. Well, aside from threatening me with death on our next meeting. What bothers me is what she said before, though…" Rin explained, one hand moving to her chin in thought.

"What did she say?" Shirou asked pensively.

"…That someone else she fought was a match for Berserker, to the point where she actually considers him a threat," Rin finally said after a moment of silence.

Shirou felt a cold chill race down his spine at the information. "What kind of monster do you think could do that?"

"If I had to guess, I'd say the Rider is the most likely. We've accounted for four of the seven classes so far, and the fake priest told me that this War had one representative of each class participating. Rider is the only remaining class with a focus on direct combat. The Assassin isn't a frontline warrior, and a Caster wouldn't be a sufficient swordsman to fight Berserker like she was implying."

"Could she have been lying, then?"

"Maybe, but why would she? We weren't a threat to her, and lying to us when we were so completely dominated wouldn't accomplish anything."

"Good point," the ochre-eyed boy conceded as he sank back into thought. A moment of silence passed as both magi pondered their options. "Tohsaka, quick question."

"Yeah?"

"Were you the one who healed me? I didn't think anyone could heal that kind of injury without Sorcery."

"You're probably right about the Sorcery bit, but it wasn't me; I'm just a normal magus. The wound healed over on its own shortly after Illyasviel left. I still haven't figured out how, though. It was pretty obvious that you don't know the curse of self-healing or any other healing spells." Despite the name, curses technically were grouped by the Magic Association as a category of spells that affected the user or target for an indefinite time without the need for renewal or constant prana. Essentially, self-sustaining spells other than boundary fields fell into this group.

"Wait, how is that possible? You're right about my limited skills, but what could have done it?" As Shirou wondered aloud, his mind drifted back to a fleeting image. _'Did that golden chain have something to do with it?'_

Rin shrugged helplessly. "If I had to guess, I'd say that it might be because of your Servant. Saber has an enormous amount of magical energy in her, and if you somehow pulled on it as a result of your botched summoning, you might have gained some measure of her regenerative powers. If that is the case, you are reducing her strength every time you heal yourself, so try not to do anything stupid. _Again._ Even if it's not, you are burning something up. Karma, life force, your bank account, something."

"My bank account?" Shirou snickered.

"Yes, your bank account! Magic uses up your money, so it's a legitimate resource! I'M NOT WRONG!" she roared suddenly, nearly bowling over the unprepared Shirou with her explosion of frustration.

The Master of Saber took a moment to recompose himself, then nodded somewhat shakily. Better that than risk turning that fury towards him. "I learned my lesson, and if I'm going to prevent a repeat of the last War, I need to make sure I don't push it unless all else fails. By the way, where _is _Saber, anyway?"

A few deep, calming breaths and his guest regained her composure. "I haven't seen her; I assumed she was watching over you while you slept. Now that you're up and about, she's probably keeping an eye on Archer, not that I can blame her."

"Ah. Well, that just leaves the big question: what now?"

Sighing, the Tohsaka heir gathered her thoughts for a few seconds before replying. "Well, that all depends on you. What do _you_ plan to do, Emiya-kun?"

The boy's face twisted in frustration. If he was being perfectly honest with himself, the response would have been the ubiquitous "I don't want to put lives on the line at all, one way or the other," but as it was, the amateur magus had a feeling that such cowardice wouldn't earn him any favors. "…I… I really don't know. This whole thing is messed up. The stakes are so high, and yet, I've never had to fight another magus before. More to the point, the Holy Grail isn't something I really want."

"Don't tell your Servant that. She'd likely kill you for it," Rin countered flatly.

"Wha?"

"Even if you don't want it, the Servants who are all summoned have their own desires that the Grail can grant them. It's part of the reason they respond to the Master's call at all. They'll fight for you, swallow their pride and do any despicable act you order them to just for a _chance_ at the Holy Grail. Also, the fact remains that only one Servant and Master can claim the Grail, so even without the Master's orders, Servant will still seek out the others to kill them. Saying you won't fight is the worst kind of betrayal," she explained to her stunned companion.

The information cranked a few gears in Shirou's head. What could Saber possibly want so badly that she, a knight of seemingly unshakable conviction and moral clarity, would put her fate in his less than ideal hands? Worse, the rules explained by Kotomine last night combined with these revelations essentially crushed any chance at a peaceful compromise. It was genuinely set up to be a fight or die, kill or be killed scenario! But maybe… "Well, all I need to do is endure until the end, right? I won't kill people if there is any other option, but if they attack me, I won't have any mercy."

Rin's smile gained a decidedly mocking quality as she brushed one of her twin pigtails back over her shoulder. "Then if a random Servant starts butchering people while you sit at home, you'll ignore it? Great plan, Emiya-kun," she drawled.

Shirou slammed the table and pushed himself upright, his eyes wide and his skin paling at the images of a rampage by Berserker that danced through his mind. "What? Why would they do that? People other than Servants and Masters aren't a part of this at all, right? Normal people aren't supposed to know about this at all, right?"

"True, but Servants are spirits," Rin pointed out. "Feeding on souls grants them a boost in their magical energy reserves, and if done carefully, there won't be any evidence of a crime or magic at all. Why do you think the War needs a supervisor like Kirei if that wasn't the case? Think about it: Servants are human spirits supplied by power from their Master as well as their natural reserves. If they run out, they disappear back to their realm, right? So if a weaker Master can't supply the necessary power, they can get more energy from other sources."

"I think I'm going to be sick…" Shirou mumbled as he settled slowly back into his cushion. "So it's really a choice between fighting out there and maybe killing a person, or risk letting some psycho kill innocent people at will? Damn it…" he hissed. There wasn't supposed to be this kind of choice for a hero of justice, he thought, but here he was.

"Sorry, but them's the breaks, Emiya-kun. However, there is something else; see, this would normally be where I say that I paid my debt to you and that we're enemies. But, between Berserker roaming around and the other Servant Ilya hinted at, neither of us has a chance at surviving this alone. So, I propose an alliance. We'll work together and protect each other at least until Berserker's taken out and if possible, the other Servant and Master as well."

The young amateur magus blinked; his mouth opened slightly as he processed her words. An alliance? With him of all people? It didn't make sense for her to go that far, but he had to admit that the benefits of such an arrangement to him were too numerous to ignore. That said, it didn't change two very important facts: Rin was still going to end up his enemy at the end, and he had no idea what she wanted the Grail for. As much as he wanted to believe that she had a pure intent, the Grail promised an insane amount of power for one person, and the person she was showing him now, her true self, was way different from the role she played in school. If she could pull such a convincing deception every day in public, what else was she hiding from him? Still, he held no delusions about his limited skills. He might have pulled the "most outstanding Servant," but he couldn't possibly support her as well as a fully trained magus, and with monsters like Berserker, there was a very good chance that he would be attacked and killed without being able to put up much of a fight, let alone protect anyone else.

Getting lost in his thoughts, Rin's voice dragged him back to reality after nearly a full minute, but it looked like she was getting irritated yet again as a result. "Well? What do you say?"

"…Alright. If you're willing to help, I can't say no. Thank you, Tohsaka."

"Good. Let's shake on it. We'll help each other at least until Berserker or this mystery Servant is beaten." Shirou's heart involuntarily skipped a beat as he clasped the girl's delicate hand with his rough one, causing him to drop his hand back almost reflexively once she released her grip. "Alright, as a token of good faith, I'll give you this," she said with a smile. Reaching down onto the floor, she placed a thin, diary-like book on the table, the cover having no title, but was as red as Tohsaka's coat that hung on the coat rack at the entrance. "That was my father's, but I don't need it. It's called a Code, and it will show you the Servant's statistics as they reveal their power to you."

Shirou opened the book, but instead of there being any words on within the pages, an image appeared in his mind, as clearly as if he was looking at a TV screen. It told him all about Saber, with her stats ranked, her height and weight, and a summary of her skills. Sadly, some information was lacking, likely due to her not revealing her full power and potential. "Wha-what the heck is this?"

"Relax; it's just a resource to make it easier for you to learn about the Servants. Read it when you get the chance," Rin switched smoothly into the educated tone of a professor as she spent some time explaining the nature of Servants and their Noble Phantasms. The whole explanation took only about twenty minutes, but the sheer volume of information was making Shirou dizzy.

It took him another minute to process everything to the extent that he could use his voice again. "Uh, thanks, Tohsaka. I really appreciate all of this. What should we do first?"

"Simple: I need to head home and get my stuff. We can start planning for the future after school."

Shirou's eyes shot open to the size of saucers and his mind kicked into overdrive at her words. "Oh shit, SCHOOL!" Bolting to his feet, Shirou stumbled as the sudden motion reminded him rather painfully of the fact that his stomach was both recently healed and empty.

With an exasperated groan, his new ally stood up and pushed him gently back onto the cushion, letting the boy steady himself. "Honestly…" she sighed, "you may have healed up just fine, but you're obviously in no condition to be running around in a blind panic. If you're feeling so obviously exhausted, take the day off. I would in your shoes, and frankly, I'm pretty drained, myself. Still, I have an image to maintain, so until we see each other again, Shirou." With that, Rin headed back towards the entryway with a casual wave and, unseen to Shirou, a slightly smug smirk.

At the girl's parting words, Shirou's face blushed into a lovely shade of crimson. _'Did she just… call me by my first name?'_ It took another minute to calm himself enough to get back to the matter at hand. During the wait, Saber entered the living area, having apparently seen Archer and Rin off. The blonde-haired woman set herself across the table, her expression neutral but alert. When the Master looked up at her, he did a bit of a double-take: instead of her familiar armor and dress, Saber was dressed in a simple royal blue knee-length skirt and a long-sleeve white shirt. Black stockings covered her legs. She looked so normal that if it weren't for her regal bearing, Shirou would have confused her with a normal, if very pretty, foreigner. Once more, the boy found himself blushing, her beauty killing his thought processes rather effectively.

"Shirou," she called to him firmly, her voice drawing him back to reality, "have you recovered well enough?"

"Er, yeah. I'm feeling better, though I need to eat something."

"Do not strain yourself too soon. Tohsaka was right about you taking the day to rest if that is what you need. You need not worry about your safety here."

"I know, but listen: if I don't attend school, it'll be suspicious for anyone looking for Masters. The more normal I behave, the harder it will be to find me out, right?"

"Agreed. However, if you are not in any shape to defend yourself, even with my protection out there you would still be in danger."

"I'll be better after breakfast… wait… protection?" Shirou's mind hit the brakes as he processed the implications of Saber's rather casual statement.

"It is a Servant's duty to protect their Master. If you attend classes as a student, then it would be safest if I accompany you."

The boy could only stare at her for a minute before he shook his head vehemently. It took several more exasperating minutes to actually convince the girl not to follow him to class, as the blonde Servant proved absurdly stubborn about her position as his guardian. She seemed utterly convinced that someone would attack him, even at a place as public as the school. Still, he appreciated her concern, and opted to start preparing her breakfast in thanks when he froze from a stray thought, his expression paling sharply.

"Is something the matter?"

Shirou's voice was level and quiet. "Saber, there's a clock on the wall behind you. What time is it?"

"6:48," she answered crisply.

"…"

"Shirou?"

The magus-in-training immediately devolved into a hysterical wreck, almost as much as his encounter with Berserker had left him. "Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap! Fuji-nee and Sakura will be here any minute! Saber, I need you to hide in my room while they're here! Third door on the right down that hall!" he ordered frantically, even as he ran about the kitchen in search of ingredients, his attention split by the myriad problems Saber's presence caused his home life. Until he had a moment to think up a plausible reason for her to be there, he had no alternative but to hide her from his friends.

The Servant was understandably befuddled by the sudden surge of panic that her Master expressed. "What are you talking about?"

Shirou didn't face her, scrambling to find dishes. "Some close friends of mine visit every morning, and they aren't magi, so hurry and hide! They can't know about any of this, ever!"

Saber silently walked over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder, which seemed to impart a measure of calm to the boy. "Calm yourself, Shirou. Panicking will solve nothing. I understand your concern for your friends, and I agree. Take a deep breath and relax. You will only concern them if they see you in such a state." When she was certain that her Master was at least breathing normally, she released his shoulder. "That said I do want to tell you something important."

The small girl accompanied Shirou to his room, he having sufficiently calmed down enough to escort her there in his normal gentlemanly manner. "Thank you, I'm a bit jumpy right now with everything. So, what did you want to tell me?"

Understanding his desire to be quick, Saber simply told him, "My summoning was incomplete, so I am unable to receive mana from you in the typical fashion. There is simply no normal link between us. As such, I will be sleeping often to conserve energy unless you need me. This will hamper our mobility, since I cannot space-jump like some Servants without a Command Spell."

"Wait, are you telling me that you can't replenish your reserves at all? How much mana do you have left?" concern and a little guilt laced the Master's tone.

"Do not worry. Unless we face Berserker again, I have sufficient mana to last the entire War. However, to be on the safe side, I will be sleeping often. I don't know if it will replenish my energy at all, but at the very least, it will conserve my power."

"I… understand," Shirou said solemnly as he headed back to the door. A moment later, pausing before leaving the room, he turned back to Saber, his expression suddenly wary. "Tohsaka told me that Servants can gain power from feeding on souls. How do you feel about that?"

Saber's eyes narrowed, frowning coldly at the Master. "It is an abhorrent practice. As a knight, I will not involve innocents in this battle, especially not to grasp for power. If you want me to do so, you will need to use a Command Spell," she stated with almost enough ice in her tone to make her breath visible.

Rather than the merciless expression she was starting to expect, Saber's answer was met by a relieved sigh and a smile. "Good. I never wanted you to do that anyway. The side room is large enough for a person to sit comfortably, so feel free to stay there until Sakura and Fuji-nee leave."

"Understood. If it is not too much trouble, though, I would also like some food for when they do leave," she replied, closing the door to the side room once Shirou nodded, disappearing from sight and not a moment too soon, as he heard the tell-tale doorbell that Sakura always rang regardless of how much like family she was to him. With a slightly wistful smile, he trotted out to greet the pretty, young lady at his door.

That last thought had Shirou blushing almost the entire way to the door.

* * *

The early morning light had yet to completely burn away the night's chill, and Bazett pulled the lapels of her long coat tighter over her suit as she left Fuyuki Bridge behind. The tall Irishwoman could still feel it, a very slight pressure on her insides, and it was coming from the park just a few minutes away from her current position. The sensation was getting stronger the closer she got, almost as if it were trying to repel her from the source. Years of training as a hunter for the Mages' Association kept her outward appearance unobtrusive, no different from anyone else going about their business, but her mind and senses were on full alert.

As the tended grounds of a small park came into view around a corner, she walked by with barely a glance, spotting several figures at a bench near where her senses told her to look. Once she passed an alleyway with a clear line of sight to the park about fifty yards away, she slipped into it and made a show of pulling out a cell phone and calling someone. Surreptitiously, she cast a _Kenaz_ rune to allow her to see the park and its occupants as crisply as if she were in their immediate midst. She nearly dropped her phone in surprise as she saw some of the teens from the visiting class from Karakura: Yasutora Sado, Rukia Kuchiki, and Uryu Ishida. While not really that unusual, their expressions were startling. Uryu's frown was cold and controlled, and his eyes were flecks of ice. Rukia's face was set in the hard mask of a warrior, one that Bazett was intimately familiar with through her own experience. Sado was largely the same as before, but his fists were closed at his sides, somehow making the young man appear far more imposing, even dangerous.

While she had some skill at reading lips, she wasn't terribly adept at reading Japanese yet, so she couldn't get much out of their conversation. She suddenly had a distinct impression that at least these three were more than they let on, and likely kept these secrets for the others. As she watched them, the strange sensation of pressure increased noticeably, and it was coming directly from the teens. Stranger still, she could _feel_ subtle differences in the sensation. It was almost like being given a prism to examine a light; the feeling was made up of several distinguishable components that could be examined in turn like the individual colors.

One brought to mind images of a gentle snowfall in a forest, a phantom chill washing over her.

The next was almost… machine-like, a precise, perfectly controlled sensation that held its own rhythm, like being connected to a clock's gears.

Another had an unmovable, almost solid feeling to it, a mountain or a glacier being fair comparisons.

And the last, the sensation that had been niggling at her all morning, was now clearly distinguished as raw, destructive power. Whatever it might have been used for upon creation, the remnants were now simply pure, unmitigated energy, like prana that was lingering with no purpose. Bazett really didn't want to meet whoever or whatever could throw around that much power.

Still, the teens' behavior and their seeming ability to trigger this new sense of hers put them high on her list of people to keep tabs on. While it was unlikely that they were all Masters, there was a high probability that at least one was, and the others likely brought in as support. She surmised that Orihime and Tatsuki were likely dragged along for the ride unknowingly. Neither of the girls put her on edge, and she had learned long ago to trust her instincts when it came to new people. To their credit, the trio hid their status rather effectively. Only the very slight feeling of them being on guard around her gave any indication that they were anything other than average teens. Bazett had initially dismissed the notion, but looking back on it, the trio currently holding a meeting in the park and the orange-haired one, Ichigo if she recalled correctly, had constantly been surreptitiously watching her every move at least until they visited the Ryuudou Temple.

The fact that said temple's position on a nexus of leylines allowed it to serve as a potential location for the Holy Grail to manifest itself only furthered her suspicions.

A few minutes of hushed talking followed, the short form of Rukia seeming to take charge and giving short instructions, before they meandered off together, once more putting on the mantle of the ordinary teen. "Who the hell are you people?" Bazett muttered to no one in particular. Reaching into her pocket, she withdrew a handful of small stones, each engraved with her tracking runes. Closing her eyes, she selected three stones, each attuned to one of the three. _'I best start with Ms. Kuchiki; she seems to be the leader of the three.'_ Her decision made, she closed her hand around the stone attuned to her target and concentrated. A slight tugging from the magical device gave her a direction, and she casually left the alleyway, looking for the world like an international businesswoman off for an appointment, blending almost seamlessly into the morning crowd.

Bazett's "leisurely walk" took her deeper into the suburbs, up towards the intersection that split the Western-styled homes from the more traditional Japanese style. The teens were quick, having passed out of sight a while ago, but would never shake the magus hunter unless they broke the runes' power. As she walked, she glanced down at her watch, only to bump into a man in his thirties. "Ah, I'm terribly sorry, I wasn't watching where I-," she started, only to freeze as she took in the man's features, her own skin paling the more she processed.

"Y-you can see me? And touch me, too?" the man queried with a mix of shock and hope. He was dressed simply: a grey polo shirt and black slacks, and he looked reasonably respectable, neatly groomed and clean-shaven. These facts did nothing to hide the disturbing… other features… the man sported. She hadn't noticed due to bumping into his right side, but his left arm looked to have been crushed, hanging limply at his side, and dried blood was caked all across his shirt. Hell, his entire left side looked mangled like he'd been hit by a truck. More eerily, a length of broken chain dangled from a hexagonal plate affixed to his chest, the dull grey metal reflecting no sunlight.

Most disturbingly of all, he was partially translucent.

Shakily, the Irish backed away, the apparition's eyes following her every move. "W-what are you?"

The figure scratched his head with his good arm in obvious confusion at her question, though he did see fit to add in a mirthless chuckle. "Isn't it obvious? Some dead guy's ghost."

* * *

Kenji Nakamura groggily opened his eyes. Exhaustion and a dull, full-body ache plagued him, but for the first time in years, he felt… free. The gnawing, pervasive emptiness where his heart once resided had abated to a mere feeling of loss, the hunger fading with it. It was indeed true that the last few hours had been a haze of pain and unthinking rage, but now, the clarity of mind that he felt made it all worth it.

The thirty-year-old real estate agent had been killed in a rather violent car accident a decade prior, the result of a driver trying to dodge the wall of fire that had incinerated his home, his son and his wife. Naturally, Kenji couldn't let go of his grief at the completely inexplicable tragedy, having lost everything all in an instant. Pain wracked his very soul as he tried to find something, anything of his family. Sadly, they had been cremated on the spot by the hellfire, leaving the soul despondent and unbearably lonely.

And then _it_ came. A black creature akin to a lion-headed gorilla, its face a stark white mask set in a perpetually hungry grin. Everything afterward was a haze of a fear, pain, and gnawing hunger. After ten long years of this instinct-driven hell, he was finally free.

Tilting his head to his right, he beheld the angel that had saved his immortal soul from the hell of Hollowdom. A ravishing beauty clad in a dark purple dress, her long, pale blue hair tied back behind her in a low ponytail. Alabaster skin and eyes the color of the sea added an exotic touch, only further enhanced by the pointed, practically elfin ears. Coughing slightly to clear his dry throat, he managed to wheeze out, "T-thank you, angel-san."

She turned to regard him somewhat blankly before smiling softly, a sight that would have likely left his knees weak had he been standing. She was… so beautiful that he temporarily found himself silenced and transfixed, completely content just to observe that heavenly countenance. When she turned away, Kenji decided to show his appreciation in some way, so he moved to stand and offer his aid with whatever she desired, only to find himself bound, a logical enough decision, considering his earlier condition.

Looking down, his eyes widened in dawning horror. He was strapped to a table, and his body… it was still the same eel-like thing it had been before, and he was _carved open_, one of his frog-like arms was peeled open with samples of his viscera strung out over the table, the other was simply removed, the bleeding staunched with some form of silver ring that had strange designs carved in it. His torso region around his hole had been pulled open in a parody of surgery, and various things were suspended over his body. Some of them he recognized as sections of this body's ribcage and even parts of his digestive system that were strung out for examination. And worst of all, he could finally see the bullet-shaped mask that had hidden his mind and face from the world, sitting like one of those decorative skulls he saw in novelty shops, on the woman's workbench. Kenji's horror translated into a wild scream as he tried to move, suddenly seeing this woman as an illusion of some devil.

Within a few seconds, the woman's cold voice hit his ears. "Enough of that; it's ruining my concentration." Another word in some strange language, and Kenji's body locked, his scream trapped in his throat while he was forced to experience the formerly suppressed pain of the procedure, even as the woman pulled out a black knife and began carving out a sample of his face, an eerily curious gleam in her eyes as she did so. Never had the soul wished to have that mask protecting his face before.

For her part, Caster was practically giddy with the prospects this research offered. Making the tools capable of cutting this creature had required some fine tuning, but it didn't take long to find out the proper spells to damage its black hide. Interestingly, it seemed to have a mockery of bones, organs, and blood, each having a measure of substance, though she could only handle them if she ran prana through her body or, bizarrely enough, was astralized. The most stunning revelation lay at her desk: the mask that seemed to be the center of everything about the creature. Removing it was apparently extremely painful, leading her to numb the creature's senses, but seeing a human face behind it had actually startled her. Pouring over her notes, she classified Hollows with human wraiths, warped and empowered by the mask, an interesting tidbit to research with greater depth once she acquired more specimens.

The woman had quietly sequestered herself in her workshop with her specimen after her beloved had gone to work. This was the time she usually did these kinds of things, the darker side of the War that she didn't care for her Master to see unless absolutely necessary. For the time being, she was content to let her little spies keep an eye on her Master while she worked. If she was careful, she would be able to go on the offensive once she worked out the palpable benefits of her new branch of research.

Capturing the thing had been easier than she anticipated. Hollows were drawn to specific wavelengths of energy, and it didn't take long to realize that odo drew them from some dark realm like a fly to honey. It also seemed that they were entirely spiritual beings, simply exerting vast amounts of power to physically affect the world. That alone offered volumes of possible uses for her. Astralized Servants lost most of their ability to interact with the physical in exchange for invisibility and the reduced prana strain on their Masters. If these wraith-beasts were any indication, it might be possible to attack without being put in danger from physical forces, especially with her stronger spells and their lengthy incantations, Divine Words or no. Even more potentially useful was the way the creature used its energy to heal itself. Some Servants had a similar ability, but the sheer level of reconstitution that the Hollow was capable of stunned her. Most of her initial incisions had healed over before she got a chance to even peel back the thing's skin! If she could harness that power for herself or, better yet, her Master…

"Now then, let's take a closer look, shall we?" she asked the frozen spirit before she passed her fingers over the array of magically enhanced tools that she had specially prepared for this live study.

* * *

'_Finally,'_ Rukia breathed in relief as the nagging sensation of being followed by a spiritually aware individual faded. It was actually rather disconcerting; whoever was tracking her and her _nakama_ somehow was able to follow them no matter how much they suppressed their spiritual pressure or how wide the gap became. Whoever it was, they had inexplicably stopped a minute ago, and with it, the nerve-wracking sensation of being stalked had vanished.

Chad's towering frame covered her in his shadow as he came to a halt behind her. "Any ideas on who that might have been?" he asked in his low baritone.

Uryu joined them as well, glancing back down the hill with his eyes narrowed. "Troubling… that spiritual pressure belonged to Inoue-san and Arisawa-san's new friend, McRemitz-san. It's also grown markedly since yesterday morning. It seems that exposure to Ichigo's spirit energy has done it again," he muttered.

"But isn't Rider absorbing his excess spirit energy?" Rukia pointed out.

Uryu nodded, sparing the Soul Reaper a slight glance. "Perhaps, but there are very few other potential reasons for her power to increase so rapidly."

"Do you think that being healed from a near-death state by Inoue had anything to do with it?" Chad suggested, causing Uryu and Rukia's eyes to widen at their own revelations.

Nodding as she dropped a fist into her open palm, Rukia ran with the theory. "If she survived teetering on the brink long enough, she might very well have received the right nudge from Inoue's healing, and then spending time in such close proximity to you, Orihime and Tatsuki immediately thereafter would have only amplified it. Combine that with being around us for several hours yesterday while her soul was getting used to the changes…"

"We created yet another aware soul unintentionally. Wonderful," Uryu groused as he adjusted his glasses.

Rukia sighed and crossed her arms. "I'll track her down and erase her memory tonight. I doubt it will help for very long if she really is becoming spiritually aware, but it might at least make her forget trailing us, which will buy us some time. For now though, we lost her, so let's widen the gap and plan our next move."

"Mm."

"Agreed."

The trio headed west, stopping at a market street lined with various fresh produce and fish. Rukia briefly marveled at how little things differed at this market from the stalls found in the Rukongai back in the Soul Society where she had grown up. Hell, people were even bartering in the same manner. "Some things never change," she sighed wistfully.

Uryu arched an eyebrow at her seemingly random statement, but didn't press the matter. Instead, he cleared his throat to regain the small woman's attention. "As near as I can tell, Ichigo's spirit energy was the only thing left at the battle site. That means one of two things: either it is customary among magi to erase one's own signature, or that the person who repaired the scene of the battle failed to do so, likely due to inexperience at handling something so potent."

Taking a moment to gather her thoughts, Rukia offered her opinion. "Considering Rider's reaction to Ichigo's status and power, I'd wager the latter. This whole thing emphasizes secrecy, so I can see magi covering each other's tracks as necessary to conceal their presence, though I am impressed by the potency of their spatial restoration techniques."

"They may not have as much raw power as we do, but they are at least as good at covering their tracks as we are," Chad observed. Trying to cover up the potential mayhem of spiritual combat was tricky enough when half the combatants were invisible, but these magi were using physical beings that any normal person could see and hear as their weapons. In his mind, the fact that they had still kept a fight of the magnitude they had sensed the previous night hidden was an accomplishment worthy of respect.

In an effort to minimize suspicion while they mulled over their options, which were irritatingly few, the Soul Reaper, the Quincy and the giant all spent almost an hour perusing the various shops along the street. Settling into a quaint little café with some warm drinks, Uryu spread out a small street map of the city between them before offering his opinion. "From what we have gathered, ending this War before the climax may be impossible. Magi do not have strong spiritual pressure, or at least not a unique one like ours. Tracking them by using our spiritual awareness will be slow going."

"What we need is to set some kind of trap-" Rukia started before a telltale pattern of beeps came from her pocket. Pulling out her Soul Pager, Rukia scowled. "An order? Odd. First one we've had since we got here."

Slipping back into the familiar territory of Hollow hunting came as a bit of a relief to the increasingly edgy warriors, allowing them to get down to business with a professional ease. "When and where?" Chad rumbled quietly.

"We've got two: one will be about half a mile west of here, somewhere near the high school, I think. The second will be about a mile to the southeast. We have about half an hour before they arrive. Looks like the Soul Society is taking a more active interest in this city to give us so much time."

"I'll accept that," Uryu admitted rather grudgingly before gesturing to Rukia. "You take care of the one at the school. Chad and I can handle the other one."

Ever the practical one, Chad asked, "What do we say if McRemitz catches up to us?"

Rukia took a moment to think before making her suggestion. "If she sees any of us in combat, it could prove problematic. Try and keep her occupied until we can home in on her spiritual pressure. From there, we can either erase her memory or help her get acclimated to seeing ghosts. If she became an ally, we could gain an extra set of eyes out there."

"It's a risky strategy; we best try and simply remain hidden as much as possible," Uryu added.

For now, it was the best they could do before moving off to deal with the Hollows. Rukia quietly swallowed the Soul Candy and ordered the cheerful rabbit to stay close to Chad and Uryu before the Soul Reaper vanished in a Shunpo. The result was the same three teens leaving the shopping district, with no indication that anything unusual was going on to any outside observer.

* * *

Shirou could only smile at how strangely pleasant school had been these last few hours. He was worried at first: Sakura had been somewhat subdued at his house, which he had initially deduced that something had happened with Shinji again. However, running counter to that was the dark-haired boy's positive mood. When asked, he casually said that something good had happened yesterday, but wouldn't elaborate, saying it was a family thing. He even seemed at least a little more lax with Sakura, waving off her spending the morning with Shirou for once. It was odd for him to be in such a magnanimous mood, but Shirou wasn't about to complain.

Classes turned out peaceful and thankfully not terribly boring. The young magus-in-training quietly reveled in the sheer normalcy of the moment. No twisted contests over ultimate power, no Servants or Masters, just a teen going about his school day. It was frankly rather jarring now that he acknowledged his role in this whole mess. Hell, he'd rather that this peaceful day would never end, if only to keep him from returning to the Holy Grail War and its meaningless savagery. Sadly, half of the day had already vanished, and he departed to the cafeteria to eat his lunch.

Stepping out into the hall, he spotted two figures, each provoking a different reaction from him. The first was Rin Tohsaka, who was casually walking away from him, likely heading to the vending machines for a drink. Most would consider her behavior perfectly normal, not realizing just how completely she was playing them.

The second figure nearly had him chasing her at a dead run. Only the sheer volume of students and faculty filling the hall kept him from charging after her. It stupefied him how careless she was, letting her Servant tail her while still partially visible. _'And she calls _me_ the amateur magus?'_ he mentally snorted as he closed the gap. Despite the lunch crowd, Rin's sedate pace meant that Shirou was able to reach his ally before she had even made her selection at the vending machine.

In a low, surprisingly forceful voice, Shirou muttered to her, "Roof. Now." It was so sudden and different from his normal tone that Rin turned and faced him, stunned, but didn't reply or move. With a growl of irritation, he barely kept himself from grabbing her wrist and dragging her off, opting to jerk his head towards the staircase and walking in the same direction. He knew that any more overt action would be suspicious, especially considering that the two didn't know each other that well, at least publically.

Although, Shirou really couldn't say he knew her at all, considering how different her true self was from the image she portrayed.

He didn't need to wait long once he made it to the rooftop, Rin's voice cutting through the air with the sharp tone that marked her as dropping her act while being annoyed. "Alright, what's got you so riled up, Shirou?"

Shirou pointed over her left shoulder. "_He's_ what's got me riled."

Rin barely suppressed a twitch. Had he just pointed out Archer? "What are you talking about? We're alone up here."

"Aside from your Servant, you mean. What are you thinking, taking him to school like that?"

Now Rin was visibly taken aback. "Wait, are you saying you can see him?"

"Of course I can! How can you _not_ notice a partially see-through man in red with white hair?"

"Rin, I don't know how he can see me, but from what I've seen, he's the only one who can," the baffled Servant quietly told his Master.

Stunning the Master and Servant further, Shirou squinted, his brow furrowing in concentration. "What did he say? I only got about half of that."

Frankly, this new set of talents the boy was displaying was actually beginning to unnerve Rin. "Shirou, he's astralized; no one else has even noticed his presence even when he was standing between me and a person. I haven't manifested him at all since last night."

Irritation melted away from Shirou's face, confusion settling in comfortably in its place. "But shouldn't he be completely invisible?"

From Shirou's perspective, the translucent man tersely said "I ■m," before crossing his arms and regarding the boy warily. His voice was faint, fading in and out like someone was playing with a volume dial, much to his chagrin.

He summed up his thoughts surprisingly simply. "Wait, so now I have Servant-vision to go with my healing?"

Tilting her head, Rin consulted her Servant. "Is that even possible?"

"N■■ to ■y kno■l■dg■. So■e■ne ■■se wou■d h■ve trie■ i■ fi■st if ■t w■re," Shirou managed to hear Archer say, his steely eyes never straying from his ochre ones.

Rin translated, thankfully. "He said that it's pretty much impossible. Whatever is happening to you, it's outside both our experiences."

"Yay…" Shirou groaned, palming his face in frustration. Yet _another_ problem had been lumped onto his already full platter…

Shirou was about to ask Rin about the implications of this new development when a sound, a cross between cloth tearing and nails dragging across a chalkboard that nearly made his ears bleed, came from the far side of the school's lot. Snapping his head to face it, he completely ignored Rin's confused calling of his name. At the far end of the lot, there looked to be a black… crack in the air, suspended over fifteen feet off of the ground, and it seemed to be getting wider, pulling itself open, revealing a black, swirling void. "Tohsaka? Are you seeing this?"

"Seeing what? Another astralized Servant?" she replied, genuinely confused.

Shirou didn't hear Archer's exact response to her query, as a second sound echoed from within the blackness. A howl, an inhuman sound that reverberated down to the very darkest core of his being, nearly brought Shirou to his knees. The primal sound preceded a white face, an eyeless bone mask only colored by several night-black, sweeping lines, their tips pointing towards a single, straight rhino-like horn that jutted from the thing's forehead (if it could be called that) and two more curved horns swept behind the creature's head like upside-down bull's horns. Just below that, a wide, grinning mouth lined with cruel, sharp teeth drooled hungrily, completing its alien visage. Its bony, elongated fingers helped pull more of the monster from the void, revealing a muscular body the color of a stormy sky. Finally, legs covered in blood-colored fur tipped with cloven hooves emerged, a long, sinuous tail sweeping behind its body. The moment those spindly fingers released the rip in the sky it snapped shut, leaving the beast floating almost lazily in mid-air, completely ignorant of gravity. Shirou's eyes were instantly drawn to the hole that passed clear through the thing's chest, easily the diameter of a basketball. The whole thing looked large enough to look down at Berserker, nearly ten feet tall. Just looking at this unnatural, hideous creature made him feel ill.

Then it screamed again, the unholy sound locking Shirou in place. Upon stopping, the demon swept its masked face over the lot, opening its toothy maw slightly and exhaling a small stream of steam or smoke while saliva dripped from its black void of a mouth. The students milling around the courtyard looked edgy, but none noticed the devil as it swept its eyeless gaze over the lot. Some sort of magecraft guarded it from sight. The people down below were sitting ducks to this masked demon, who seemed to be selecting its first victim with a deliberate slowness. _'It's… it's going to kill everyone, and they can't even see it!'_ Shirou realized.

He slowly started to back towards the door, every fiber of his being screaming at him to run and hide, to find a nice dark corner and huddle in it, as long as this THING didn't find him. However, the moment its mask turned in his direction, it stopped, the eyeless face locked onto him like a hunting lion eying a sick gazelle.

'_Oh god… I'm… I'm the one it wants?_' Shirou mentally screamed, too terrified to even think, let alone move.

As if in answer, the masked devil slowly began to move, turning its body to face him more completely.

Archer was faring notably better. He was still disturbed by this masked devil's sudden appearance and the way its very existence oppressed him, but at least it hadn't picked him or Rin out over the amateur. "Rin, we better leave. Move slowly and don't make a sound. Just be glad you can't see it and that it hasn't spotted you yet." He conveniently left out that the creature had already focused its full attention on Shirou.

For some reason, though she couldn't see or hear what had caught Shirou and Archer's attention, a cold feeling of dread had washed over Rin a few seconds ago, and Shirou looked ready to have a panic attack himself, but at least he seemed able to see it, given the way he was so intensely focused on a particular patch of sky. Archer's words of caution only added to her strained nerves. The air felt unnaturally cold and her knees were shaking despite there being no logical reason to feel so terrified. "What do you see?" she whispered as she eased herself back towards the exit.

"You're really better off not knowing," the Servant replied vaguely.

The demon howled suddenly, seeming to kick off of the very air into an open-mouth charge, its spindly, cruelly clawed fingers stretched out towards the terror-stricken magus. The creature moved almost as fast as Berserker had the previous night, leaving Shirou unable to convince his trembling body to move even as it crossed over the courtyard.

Even as Shirou battled his body's paralyzing terror, a red glow suffused the monster's body, freezing it in place while a pained wail echoed from its mouth. From the right of his position, a small, translucent figure leapt into the fray, kicking off of a telephone pole that ran parallel to the school with one hand outstretched and glowing red in the same manner as the beast's body. Clad in black _hakama_ and _kosode_ in the manner of a feudal samurai, the girl looked even smaller than Saber, as she wore no armor. Though the angle he had prohibited him getting a good look, he could tell that she was a pale-skinned beauty. Raven-black hair fell around her shoulders, and a katana sized perfectly for her small frame was threaded into her white cloth belt. Shirou had a feeling that if Saber was Japanese rather than a foreigner, she'd likely look exactly like this girl. Incredibly, the feeling of unnatural dread evaporated the moment the girl appeared; as if her presence drove back his fear of the monster.

Apparently satisfied with the creature's paralysis, the woman lowered her hand to her katana's hilt and drawing the blade even as the demon seemed to regain control of its limbs. All he could do was watch in awe at another example of a small woman taking on a much larger foe and completely controlling the fight.

* * *

Rukia really hated fighting these particular types of Hollows: those who died with grief and fear and clung to those feelings while their Chain of Fate dissolved over time tended to be not only be extremely savage even by Hollow standards, but also had a passive ability to project a crippling aura of terror that could even affect the living to a limited degree. Sure, she was powerful enough to stop the effect and resist it herself, but it didn't change the fact that doing so made these Hollows even more violent, as they tended to panic and lash out at whatever suppressed their innate ability.

The Hollow hissed and swiped at her savagely, its overlong fingers missing her by scant inches as her zanpakutou was freed from its _saya_ in a smooth and long-practiced motion. In one graceful sweep, the petite swordswoman took the eyeless Hollow's arm off at the elbow, eliciting a shriek of agony from it even as it brought its tail around, slamming it into the Soul Reaper's swiftly placed guard.

Truth be told, after all that she had been through in the last year, Rukia barely registered the attack as anything more than a minor irritant despite it sending her flying towards the wall of the school building. Though she wasn't as skilled as a seated officer at controlling ambient spirit particles and thus couldn't stand on air for very long, she could still slow her fall and minimize damage. When her sandals gently tapped the wall, she powered her body back towards her target, who hissed and dropped down to the ground, the Soul Reaper pushing against the air with her spiritual pressure until she started falling right on top of her target.

Her sword held overhead, she let gravity assist her on meeting the Hollow's attempted counterattack, leading her to discover that the majority of its defenses lay in its tail, which was almost leathery and extremely difficult to actually pierce. The creature attempted to eviscerate her with its good arm, failing to strike anything but air as Rukia skillfully flash-stepped to the side opposite of the tail's current position, causing the Hollow to snarl as it kicked at her with a cloven hoof, only to lose the limb to Rukia's shining sword. Completely off balance and in too much pain to react effectively, the Hollow barely had time to scream before Rukia braced the back of her blade with her palm, leaping upward and running Sode no Shirayuki's keen edge through the Hollow's mask, landing softly as its purified remains dissolved into the air behind her. Swiping the blood off of her partner, she sheathed the zanpakutou and checked for any more trouble. From her angle, nothing seemed amiss and she wasn't visible to any of the students from what she could tell, allowing her to leave without worry.

* * *

Having only been really active at ground level and seeing no one at the windows, she never noticed the way a boy on the roof had watched the whole thing.

"Tohsaka, am I the only one who saw that?"

"■'m no■ b■in■, k■■. I ■aw ■t t■o." came Archer's half-heard response, his tone still managing to come off as agitated and sarcastic despite missing so many sounds to Shirou's ears.

"Okay, this is getting irritating. Will one of you PLEASE tell me what the hell is going on with you two?" Rin demanded.

"Well, I'm not exactly sure myself, but…" Shirou began as he explained what he had witnessed, Archer confirming his statements whenever it looked like the girl was about to laugh at the seeming absurdity.

When he finished, the jewel-using magus pinched the bridge of her nose. "So you're telling some astralized samurai girl took on this heartless demon in the school courtyard, cutting it down like a Saber might and then vanished in a space-jump?"

"In a nutshell, yeah."

"Jeez… Just when I thought things couldn't get any weirder," Rin groaned before turning her crystal-colored eyes back to her ally, cutting straight to the point. "Alright, after school, we're definitely working something out. I don't know how you gained this ability, but the implications are huge, both strategically and for you as a magus."

Her tone made Shirou nervous. "How so?"

"Aside from the obvious, it might mean you are no longer human."

"What?" Shirou almost squeaked.


	10. Interviews with the Spirits: Part I

AN: Phew! What a month. Still, I got this out, and I'm still working diligently. Anyway, I want to once more thank all you awesome readers, reviewers and all of you who helped me. Everyone's patience will soon be rewarded, as the Fifth Holy Grail War is going to start heating up!

_Interviews with the Spirits: Part I_

While she focused her conscious mind to sift through her familiars' eyes, a sense of anticipation filled Illyasviel. After spending the morning hours trying fruitlessly to gather some information on the entity that was Ichigo Kurosaki, her frustration had finally hit its peak, and she decided to take a break and refocus her attention on her potential victims- er, fellow Masters. She wasn't exactly sure why, but she was feeling intensely curious, which meant that despite nothing happening so far, with the people being mind-numbingly dull, she still kept at it.

Entire flocks of songbirds had been converted into her personal spies, so it only made sense that it would be a time-consuming process to cycle through them all. The sheer number of familiars at her disposal meant that she could for all intents and purposes see almost the entirety of Fuyuki's streets and parks at any given time. So far, she hadn't seen anything unusual or even particularly noteworthy, but with all the eyes at her disposal, one was bound to locate _something_, be it another Master or simply an interesting event for her to watch for her own amusement, like a Servant doing a menial task for their Master like buying groceries. Several of these familiars peeked into various windows without anyone being the wiser.

One such bird landed atop a roof in central Shinto, idly tilting its head and sweeping from side to side for anything of interest. Peering out, the bird caught a flash of orange. At Ilya's mental equivalent of shouting and pointing, the bird shifted its attention, pinpointing the orange blotch standing next to a fountain. There he was, looking quite agitated about something, his hands stuffed into his slim-fit jean pockets and his distinctive scowl furrowing his brow.

In her castle, the white-haired magus smiled smugly. "Found you, Berry-onii-chan."

She had her familiar scan the immediate area around him, knowing that a Master wouldn't leave their Servant too far away, even if they were stupidly powerful like Ichigo proved he was. More to the point, Servants tended to stay close to their Masters regardless unless they were injured and healing in their Master's citadel or were fulfilling an order. Seeing as how the swordsman never even called out his Servant the previous night, he or she should still be hanging around, or at least she hoped.

Ilya focused her attention once she caught sight of a woman seated at a park bench a scant five feet from Ichigo's position. A statuesque woman with flowing, lavender hair dressed in a casual black turtleneck and dark jeans. The sharp contrast between such an unusual hair color and her immaculate posture made her seem oddly out of place, like a "Servant…" she muttered as she tried to memorize the woman's features. A few moments later, she stood up and walked over to Ichigo's side as two more young women jogged into her familiar's line of sight. The first dressed simply in a dark red sweater and slightly faded blue jeans with short, spiky black hair. The second had longer hair with a reddish tint, wearing lighter colored jeans and a simple khaki cardigan, a scarf draped over her neck. Two almost crystalline hairclips shaped like snowflakes or flowers held her hair back.

Immediately, the small magus felt a surge of indignation as Ichigo's scowling face turned to each, obviously paying attention to them all in turn, but thankfully for Ilya's mood, he didn't show any overt affection towards any of them. In her mind, this indicated they were friends at best, fangirls at worst. Either way, they were apparently annoying the orange-haired hero judging by his scowl and the way he scratched the back of his head as he responded, and thus Ilya found herself taking issue with them. With a mental nudge, she ordered her familiar to flit closer, landing in a small bush and within hearing range.

* * *

"So, any luck?" Ichigo asked his two human friends

"Not on this side of the bridge," Tatsuki sighed. She was really getting restless, especially since this would be her first chance to prove her mettle in spiritual combat.

"All I can sense is the forest; it's almost like Hueco Mundo…" Orihime murmured. It was no surprise that something like that had drawn her attention, though she was doing an admirable job of tolerating the malevolent aura that emanated from that direction.

"Damn. Almost all of the major players seem to be hanging around in Miyama," Ichigo grumbled, clearly annoyed as he scratched the back of his head. For the action-oriented Vizard, this kind of skulking about the magi used really ticked him off. "We still have a couple hours to burn; think we should take a look?"

"Don't go charging in recklessly, Ichigo. It could be a trap," Rider pointed out logically, silently assessing every person and animal that got close for potential threats. "The fact that you and your friends have been sensing the forest's negative energy for several days without pause suggests at bare minimum a boundary field of great strength."

Ichigo's scowl deepened. He really didn't like the idea of a potential threat just being left to sit untouched for so long, but Rider's caution made sense; she and most Servants couldn't exactly flatten entire city blocks without great strain to themselves or their Masters the way he could. "I get that, but there's little chance one of those could do much to us."

Rider was actually growing slightly concerned by how casual Ichigo treated the Holy Grail War. Powerful he may be, but arrogance would be one hell of a weakness for an enemy to exploit. "Be wary of such complacency. With proper planning, an enemy could capture you or your friends without needing to even see you face-to-face, let alone fight you."

"Heh, I'm pretty sure at least one would just love a chance to gloat about catching one of us to our faces, but they'd never think we might be out of their league to the extent I'm thinking we might be."

Tatsuki shrugged nonchalantly and gave an exaggerated sigh. "That's Ichigo for ya. I think I he's been hit one too many times in the head over the last year. No sense left in that head of his anymore."

"Hey!" Ichigo barked indignantly while Orihime giggled at his irked expression.

"Relax; I'm just making an observation. Still, he wasn't always like this," Tatsuki waved off her old friend's irritation, giving Rider a positively devious smile in the process. "Used to be a heck of a crybaby," she continued with a snicker. "Heck, back when we first met, he-" she was suddenly interrupted by Ichigo smacking her lackadaisically upside the head, rolling his eyes all the while.

"Alright, that's enough out of you. Do you _have_ to tell that story to everyone we ever meet?"

She gave him a cheeky grin while rubbing the spot the Vizard had swatted. "What do you think, Strawberry? It's one of the few times where I'm clearly more badass than you."

"We were four," he deadpanned.

"Well, that time, yeah. But I was still kicking your ass up through middle school!" Ever since the whole battle with Aizen ended, the two had rekindled their strained friendship to the degree that many would likely see them as brother and sister if they hadn't met the pair previously.

Rider watched their interaction with a slightly bemused expression as Orihime stood beside her, seemingly content to let the two hotheads aggravate each other. "Are they cousins?" the servant asked the shorter girl.

"Nope. They've been good friends for longer than I've known them though, so they might look like it."

"I see." When Rider looked up again, Tatsuki had the taller boy in a headlock, her other hand drilling his orange head in a playful (but still obviously painful) noogie. "Are you sure there's no relation?" she asked even as she sniggered slightly at her Master's situation.

For a few more seconds, the pair of long haired beauties watched Ichigo attempt to extricate himself from Tatsuki's surprisingly solid grip. "By the way, are you alright with having to wear the same outfit every day?"

Rider was slightly caught by surprise at the random shift in topic, but Orihime seemed genuinely interested in her answer, so she shrugged and replied honestly. "It never crossed my mind."

"Well that's no good!" Orihime said, her brow coming down in a half-hearted attempt at looking stern. "Every girl should at least have a few outfits. After lunch, if there's nothing going on, we're going shopping!"

The sudden declaration startled the older woman, but she did appreciate the gesture, all the same. "Thank you, but that really isn't necessary. I am still unsure about my fate in this War and after."

The auburn-haired mistress of fate gave her a bright smile. "Don't worry about that, Rider-san! Ichigo and everyone else will protect you, and you protect us! We'll all be fine! I'm sure we'll find some dresses you'd look great in!"

"Uh, I appreciate it, but…"

"Ah, just run with it. Orihime's set her mind to it, so it'll end up happening sooner or later. Besides, you need to loosen up a little," Tatsuki called over to her, Ichigo having wormed his way out of her grip somehow.

Seeing his Servant focusing on him for his opinion, said victim rubbed his rather sore head but simply shrugged. "Your call. I'm not exactly going to say one way or the other."

"I'll… think about it," Rider finally responded, genuinely at a loss on how to react to this situation. She never would have guessed in a thousand years that her Master would give her such freedom, or that his companions would be so willing to befriend her, she who technically wasn't even alive. Then again, neither was Rukia.

* * *

Relief flooded Ilya knowing that Ichigo wasn't a womanizer in spite of the company he kept, but rather, a loyal friend. He could be playful at times, and he looked really cute when flustered, like when that girl had managed to catch him in a headlock. She giggled at the image. She spent a few more minutes watching the group, memorizing their faces for future reference. At the moment, she didn't know what she'd do with them, but if nothing else she'd rather not have Berserker end up killing them on accident. Maybe on purpose if necessary, but not by accident.

The group did reveal that they were aware of the forest's negative energy. On top of that, the auburn-haired girl also gave her more questions to dig through her library for. "Hueco Mundo" sounded particularly interesting, if a bit dangerous. That forest was her first line of defense, only designed to disorient and unnerve people wandering into her property by accident. Ideally, the boundary would drive them out, but if that didn't work, Sella and Leysritt would prevent them from going back to town by any means necessary. Unlike usual people, though, Ichigo, his Servant, and his friends might be visiting the grounds. If that happened, Ichigo's enormous power would likely suppress the effects of her passive defenses, and if last night's demonstration was any indication, his ability to channel prana was unmatched to the point that he could manifest it as a physical force without needing any incantations or gestures. On top of that, if he did find her castle, Berserker would be needed to have a hope of slowing him down let alone subduing him. She didn't exactly like the thought of those two fighting anywhere _near_ her castle, let alone in it. The park's wreckage from their brief scuffle was indicative enough of the collateral damage any battleground would suffer. In Ilya's own home, priceless relics would be in danger, not to mention the concept of the whole castle collapsing around their ears if either of them got too reckless was far from unlikely.

What she needed was a distraction; something to keep them from going too deep into the woods. She doubted the group would find her castle on their first attempt, but Ilya really didn't want to take the risk. While she initially thought about letting slip some choice information to a reasonably strong Master and get them to deal with the competition and then mop up the survivors, that only would work if she was sure that no one would be powerful enough to oppose her at the end. With Ichigo as an enemy, her chances had dropped significantly. With a slight grimace, she considered another option: an alliance.

Ilya's pride as an Einzbern warred with the practicality of such an arrangement, her cheeks puffed in irritation. "Darn it; when did this whole 'use Berserker to win the Holy Grail War' thing get so complicated?" She already knew the faces of just about every Master aside from Caster's (though she did already know where to find said Servant) and Lancer's, so she could at least recognize them if she wanted to approach them. Of the remaining pairs, she'd place her best chances with the Caster's cunning or that golden warrior with the red eyes. With a sigh, she prepared to dive into her network of familiars and find them as soon as possible. With Ichigo and his band considering the forest as a point of investigation, she had to convince an ally to make a move or at least provoke a more immediate concern to pull them away.

Before that though… her stomach growled. "Hmm… I'm in the mood for something Japanese today. Liz-chan, Sella-chan, I'll be having lunch out today. Take care of the castle," she said just a touch regally to her two maids, who bowed dutifully before Leysritt fetched her mistress's coat.

* * *

It was official: Bazett Fraga McRemitz had finally lost her mind.

That was the only explanation she could think of for talking to a translucent man who claimed, and looked, dead. She might have been more willing to accept the situation if she had more experience with hauntings and spiritual chicanery, but having it thrust upon her with no prior experience at twenty-three years of age pointed to some form of disassociation from reality. Maybe this guy represented a kind of repressed guilt over some of the peaceful people she had locked away or been forced to kill as part of her job as a hunter for the Mages' Association. For the sake of any image of sanity she had left, she retreated to a small playground and sat on a currently empty bench. For the moment, school was in session so she didn't expect anyone to come by and watch her chat up with some invisible man.

"You know, it's rather rude to simply walk off on someone, miss. What are we doing here, anyway?"

"I'm praying for some semblance of privacy while I sort this out."

The specter rolled his eyes, his lower body fading into a foggy wisp. "What's to sort? I'm dead but you can see me, which is damn cool by the way, and I'm freaking BORED. It's kind of hard to get an intelligent conversation out of a dog or a cat, which are about the only other things that note my existence."

Bazett took a moment to let off an explosive breath and buried her head in her hands. Looking back up, the ghost had situated himself on the bench next to her, his form sending chills into the air around him, a sensation that proved unnerving to the magus. Still, she took a methodical approach to what she hoped would be a session of self-therapy. "So why me? How I can see you?"

"Dunno. Figured you'd know more about that than me. As for why, I already said: I'm bored, and you're the first person I've met that can actually hear me when I talk. Still, I'm being rather rude; my name is, or was, Daisuke Watanabe. And you are?"

In her mind, Bazett went through a mental list of all the people she had been sent after by the Association, and couldn't recall even one Japanese magus, let alone one with that name. For the sake of prying more information, she relented. "Bazett Fraga McRemitz."

The ghostly man blinked at that. "What nationality is that? I've never been very good with foreign names, sad to say. Guess that's why I hit the glass ceiling at work. Upper management would mean a lot more international stuff," he started to ramble.

"It's Irish," Bazett interrupted before he could build up too much momentum. "What did you want to talk about so desperately?"

"Anything, really. I was starting to go nuts from not having anyone to just talk to," the chatty spirit said, absently twirling the length of chain with his good arm.

"Aren't there any other ghosts for you to bother?"

"Hey, that's just rude! I've run into a few, yeah, but most of them are more than a little loopy. One guy near the bridge's been dead for nearly fifty years, and he's completely bonkers. Other than that, it's really hard to find one, and even then, most just want to mope. Then there's the fact that some of them literally up and disappear after some time."

"Disappear? Maybe they're finally letting go of their business and passing on."

"I thought about that, but then what the hell am I still doing here? I've come to terms with the fact that I'm dead and gone, and I can't exactly think of any reason why I'm stuck." Daisuke sighed and let the chain drop from his fingers, the links clinking together heavily. He seemed to be in thought for a few seconds before his face lit up.

Bazett _really_ didn't like that look in his eye.

"Maybe you can help!" Daisuke suddenly burst out as he stood, er, floated back upright, his good arm pointing to her like he had just singled her out of a crowd in an airport or something. "Yeah, since you can hear me, you could ask around, translate for me around anyone or anything that could still be anchoring me here!"

"Are… are you serious? Listen, I'm starting to doubt my sanity here as it is, and you want me to walk around town and ask for help on behalf of a _ghost_?"

"Aw come on, it's not like I'm asking you to interview the whole city, just a few people at most! On top of that, once I'm out of your hair, you won't have to worry about me bothering you for the rest of your life," the ethereal man pleaded.

"Tempting," Bazett snorted. "Where and how did you die, anyway? Also, what's with the chain?"

"What, this?" Daisuke clarified as he dangled the rattling metal across his finger. "Hell if I know, but it's been anchored to me for as long as I've been dead. It's also shorter than when I first noticed it. Used to need to wrap it around my shoulders a few times to keep from dragging it, now it's this long," he explained. Bazett estimated that the chain was only slightly shorter than the man himself, which was beginning to trip warning bells in her mind. What kind of significance would a broken chain have to her? Depending on how he answered her real question, she began to feel cold at the idea of really talking to a ghost.

"As for how I died, I was crushed. You know about the fire ten years ago, right?" How could she not? It was only the previous conclusion of what she was originally here to participate in. "Well, I was living on the grounds where they put up that new electronic store, and while I was asleep, a car plowed through the side of the house, and the fire burned away the last load-bearing wall. The roof squashed me painlessly, hence the left side." The way he was so open and casual about the event indicated that he more than likely had come to terms with it, or just lost his connection with it over the years.

The poor redheaded magus was feeling rather chilled and jittery as the knowledge sank in: there was no connection between her and this figure, who wasn't trying to torment her other than by being annoying. _'That means that… he's… really a _wraith_!' _Wraiths were how magi classified human spirits, often documented as shackled by past grudges and prone to slow degradation before vanishing. This wraith next to her seemed to have no typical characteristics in terms of behavior, though. It was horrendously confusing.

"Hey, you alright, McRemitz-san? You look like you've just, well, never mind." The ghost waved off his analogy, but his intent was clear.

"I-I thought y-you were a figment of my imagination!" she stuttered as the ghost started laughing.

With a smile still on his face, he calmed down. "Yeah, I guess I can see that. Relax; at least you know you're not going crazy."

"Somehow that's suddenly not terribly reassuring."

Daisuke's jaw dropped in obvious exasperation. "You can't be serious. What can I do? Wiggle my fingers at you and say 'boo?'"

Bazett took a deep breath to calm down. Daisuke had a point. He wasn't trying to harm her or do anything other than look to her for some semblance of sanity and help in moving on. He didn't exactly throw stuff around like a poltergeist or scream evil intent towards her. "I'm sorry, but I've never seen a ghost before, let alone talked with one, and it's a little… jarring, alright?"

"Really? I have to wonder how many poor shmucks were written off as figments of your imagination before me," he joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Bazett sighed. "I'm serious. I've always believed in the soul and ghosts, but I have never been gifted with the psychic ability to see them. What exactly is it like? Are you numb to sensation?"

Her suddenly scientific curiosity startled the see-through spirit and he absently rubbed his mangled left arm. "No, I'm not, though what I'm allowed to interact with is kinda limited. Breathing took some getting used to, and I felt heavy and weak for about a week after I kicked the bucket. I don't really feel any pain from the injuries, a fact that I'm really grateful for, let me tell ya. I phase through most stuff and people except for the ground, and the worst I do is give them goose bumps."

"Wait, back up. You have to breathe? Why? More importantly, how?" Bazett questioned with her brow quirked inquisitively, her eyes flicking to his mangled ribcage. If he did need to breathe, he would need to make do with one lung, at best. More than likely, bone fragments would have punctured the right lung as well, so he shouldn't be able to breathe at all.

The ghost's own brow twitched in obvious annoyance. "Lady, I'm _dead_. There wasn't exactly an FAQ for these things or an orientation meeting."

"Er, sorry," the magus responded sheepishly.

"Meh, I'm pretty sure that I'd be just as curious if I met me under the same circumstances. So, you willing to help me or am I going to have pop up every little while to wiggle my fingers and say 'boo' until you agree?" the spirit half-joked.

Bazett had no doubts that she was officially haunted until she got this Watanabe fellow to move on to whatever awaited him. "Looks like I really don't have much of a choice if I want to get back to my real objective. Alright, I'll help you. However, for the sake of avoiding looking like I need to be locked up, try not to aggravate me too much. If you want to talk to me or have a lead for me to follow, let me know and I'll pull out my phone. That way it just looks like I'm just taking a call."

"Smart thinking. I know I can't exactly do much to show it, but for what it's worth, thank you," the spirit said solemnly, bowing at the waist as low as he was able.

Bazett smiled at the man for a second before she glanced around and started back towards the bridge. "Alright, we'll start with that electronics store that's over where you died. I doubt we'll find much, but maybe it'll jog your memory if you use me as a sounding board for your thoughts."

"Great!" the apparition grinned happily, settling for hovering behind her shoulder. They walked in silence in a few minutes before a thought struck Daisuke. "Hey, McRemitz-san, I've got a question."

In response, the magus pulled out her cell phone and placed it against her ear. "Yeah?"

"When you said you had a 'real objective,' what did you mean? Don't worry, I won't tell anyone if it's cloak-and-dagger mischief. 'Dead men tell no tales,' and all that."

While she normally would clam up about something like this, the fact was that the number of people she knew of who could interrogate a ghost was practically zero, excluding herself. Oh, there were stories and mystic traditions, but it was highly unlikely any would have an interest in some random ghost's post-death musings. "Well, it's not something I'm really allowed to say in public. Suffice to say I'm investigating the murders going on in town," she said lowly while the ghost hovered with his good hand cupping his ear conspiratorially.

"Ooooh. Say no more. It'll be our little secret, but I'm hoping for a good story when you have some time," he gave a salute before he stiffened. "Oh no…"

"What is it? Did you remem-" the redhead started before an unnatural chill washed over her, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up. A cloying, almost painful sensation drilled into her stomach before Daisuke gripped her wrist and tugged her back towards the alleys and sleepy suburbs of Miyama.

"Move, move, move! Whatever you do, don't stop for anything!" the ghost said as he released her wrist, satisfied that she was properly motivated to run on her own power.

Bazett would have asked what had got him so spooked, but then she heard it: a long, moaning howl that tried to crush her sanity and desire to live beneath it. It was far too close for comfort, and the sound of heavy footfalls trailed them at the edge of their perception. The two darted into an alleyway for a few seconds before a thunderous boom sounded at the edge of the street.

"McRemitz-san, hold your breath. This thing can sniff us out, but holding your breath confuses them," Daisuke whispered as he drifted behind a dumpster. Following his own advice, he clapped his arm over his mouth and nose.

Bazett could feel a distinct, dank aura pressing against her insides; her new sense was going nuts with warnings of death and rot, and she wasn't in the mood to argue with the ghost, who was barely keeping himself together despite his earlier words. He was shaking, and his eyes were wide in barely controlled terror. Thus, she took a deep breath and held it just in time for their pursuer to reach the mouth of the alley, a series of loud sniffs coming from it. Whatever it was, it was big and heavy and its very presence was oppressive, like it was an affront to the order of the world.

It sniffed a few more times, remaining still. The unknown thing even sounded like it knocked over a trash can, hissing in annoyance before trundling off, its heavy tread soon fading from their ears. Once Daisuke released his breath in obvious relief, she did the same. "Alright Watanabe-san, talk. What the hell was that thing, and why are you so scared of it?" she demanded with all the menace of a rumbling volcano, earning a nervous glance from the ghost.

"I don't know if they have a name or anything, but that was an evil spirit. I've seen them chase down other spirits and devour them, ripping them limb from limb like a frenzied bear. I never stick around to get a good look whenever I feel one coming anymore; I just run," he replied shakily, obviously recalling such a memory. "I've seen people get knocked aside while they move, so I know they can kill people really easily."

"Great, now they're going to be after me, too?" Bazett growled, dearly wishing she could do some permanent damage to the spirit before her.

"I don't know! I only have my own experience to go by!" Daisuke defended hotly. "Let's just get out of here before another one shows up."

With a sigh of irritation, she followed the obviously jittery ghost, who checked every direction before drifting back into the street, jerking his head back in the opposite direction the footfalls had trailed off. The Irishwoman followed, trying not to look as uneasy as she felt. Bazett likely would have relaxed if that strange pressure ever abated, but it didn't, always staying at the very edges of her unfamiliar energy sense but remaining present in her mind at all times like a stalking wolf.

That uneasiness only got worse the closer they got to the bridge, especially when they entered the park: the same one that Rukia, Uryu and Chad had huddled together in to make their own plans. The energy still in the air, though much weaker than earlier this morning or last night, disoriented her as her sixth sense bombarded her from all around, like being stuck in a fog bank (if the fog bank also hit you with static electricity). With every step she took, she felt more and more wary, her combat instincts causing her to unconsciously tighten her leather gloves.

Daisuke was also edgy, though his fraying nerves were from being so exposed when one of those _things_ had revealed itself. He usually went and curled up under a building's floorboards for a day when one did, as the evil spirits rarely went through the trouble to track him into a building, and never thought about tearing open a floor to get at him. With Bazett around, he didn't feel right just leaving her, especially since she had already agreed to help him pass on.

Suddenly, the young woman felt a dread chill overwhelm the foggy sensation which preceded a column of dust and the scream of tortured metal from the small play area at the edge of the park. When she turned to face the sound, she was forced to look upon a beast from mankind's darkest nightmares.

The creature's body was a navy blue color, and covered in coarse hair. Its legs were small, almost like an ape's, though this monstrosity didn't resemble any gorilla she had ever seen in zoos or on TV. Indeed, its arms were hideous things, with sinewy upper arms like twined steel cables that anchored into the back of massive walls of muscle that made up the lower arms, each shaped like a tower shield. Three long spikes at the lower edge took the place of fingers, and a single spike jutted from the back in place of an elbow joint. The thing was barrel-chested and hunched over on its thick arms for support. The creature's bull neck led into a bone-white mask resembling a large jungle cat's skull, with the addition of two elongated tusks that jutted slightly forward in place of the lower canines. Two silts of red balefire peered out from within the mask's eyeholes, focused intently on the ghost and his living companion.

To her shock, the creature spoke, the mask warping a deep, male voice to sound as if it had spoken from underwater. "**Boo.**"

* * *

Elsewhere, Caster focused her will, entering the window in her mind's eye that showed images that did not belong to her immediate surroundings. Like Ilya, she was accessing a familiar's eyes and ears. Unlike the pale magus, though, this was not a simple surveillance mission, but a test run. She had found that under the influence of the mask (which she replaced shortly after her subject began choking, like he was having trouble breathing), the Hollow was nothing more than an overly aggressive animal, the human host's mind suppressed while the masked beast hunted for odo. Due to its simple nature, it was quite easy to implant a shard of her will into the creature and subvert it into a familiar. Indeed, it could prove quite useful in this role: it could potentially be a useful spy and assassin, with the ability to fly and a natural invisibility to living humans that let it walk right up to them without anyone being the wiser.

In practice however, controlling it proved tougher than she thought. The creature's mind was quite literally a raging mass of killer instinct. Even with her influence, the Hollow's mind refused to be buried or shackled, resisting her commands every step of the way in favor of looking for souls to quell the endless hunger and emptiness within. The resistance proved especially fierce when she had her Hollow slip across the bridge, where its sense of "smell" picked up the distinctive scent of a ripe soul, something that piqued Caster's curiosity. The moment she gave her permission to seek it out, Caster's perspective raced forward, the eel-like beast no longer struggling against her influence. This hunger was apparently one hell of a motivating factor for Hollows, a fact she could use to her advantage if done correctly.

Within seconds of letting her familiar chase down the scent, she yanked on the mental reins to get a good look at the spirit that had so fiercely drawn her familiar's attention. A wraith of an elderly, bearded man in a shoddy yukata stood chained to a small outcropping of rock at the edge of the hill just under the bridge spanning between Shinto and Miyama. The figure's eyes were wild and unfocused, his teeth grinding in obvious rage. "Bastards! The lot of them! They ruined it! My life's work, replaced! And with what? Some strung-together abomination? That's not art! _THAT'S NOT ART!_" he snarled madly, his chain rattling with every demented shake of his head.

'_Intriguing…'_ Caster mused over this figure's obsession with the bridge. She knew a wraith when she saw one, but never had she seen one shackled to a place before, though the plate anchoring it to the man's chest looked rusted, ready to fall off at a moment's notice. It was amazing that it was holding as well as it was. Still, she had to constantly push down the Hollow's hunger to study this phenomenon before she let her new plaything feed. In this regard, she noticed that she was actually getting some help, this time from the Hollow's human host, the remnant she had unwittingly pulled to the surface by removing the mask now fully aware as a separate personality that resisted the mask's will, further aggravating the creature.

"Damn them, damn them, damn them! So obsessed with advancement, these people have no appreciation for the truly skilled artists of their forefathers! That bridge is nothing more than a soulless shell! Bring back my bridge!" the specter screamed, spiritual spittle flying from his mouth, completely ignorant of the masked eel that drooled hungrily less than ten feet away.

Back at her workshop, Caster sighed and pulled her influence out of the Hollow for a second. Normally, familiars would default into a holding pattern, fulfilling their master's last order as well as they were able. Hollows weren't quite so simple, though. The moment Caster's will weakened its focus on holding back its own instincts, the Hollow howled and charged, hunger dominating its every thought. Understandably, this caught Caster completely off guard. She knew the Hollow was willful, but to be able to shrug off her mind's lingering power so quickly after she diverted her attention? Immediately, she slipped back into the Hollow's mind, but opted not to assert her dominance until she got a better grasp on why the Hollow was so desperate to feed.

The human mind buried by the mask screamed in horror, but it mattered little as the Hollow gripped the spirit with its frog-like limbs, finally provoking a response from the angry wraith. "Who the devil are you? Here to gloat about my loss? Begone!" With herculean effort, the depraved ghost struggled against the Hollow's grip, whose eyes narrowed in a manner indicating a sadistic smile. The spirit had no chance as the Hollow gleefully ripped into the spirit's shoulder, spectral blood spraying against the mask as it swallowed hungrily and taking a few more bites before snapping its mask's teeth around the rusty plate that anchored the chain and ripping it off with a vicious shake of its head, finishing with a snap of its teeth at the exposed… hole? Running clear through the form was a hole the size of the man's two fists.

"Well now, how peculiar," Caster muttered, refocusing her attention on her familiar's senses. It seemed satiated, or at least enough so that it grudgingly accepted Caster's will. The human personality was weeping, indicating that some cruel fate had befallen the ghost. Said spirit's incessant screaming also pointed to some unknown horror heaped upon it. The Hollow hissed and prepared to leave, when the spirit literally burst apart in a surge of white light. At that instant, the air grew dank and heavy; some kind of dark energy was building at the top of the rock the ghost had been shackled to. With a mental snap of her fingers, she forced the Hollow under her control to watch, her own mind riveted to what she was witnessing through its eyes.

Flecks of brown-gray material coalesced, building into a pair of crouched legs, three large bone-white talons tipping thick toes, arranged almost like hooves. The flesh of the forming creature took on a texture akin to jagged stones interlocked like the scales of some great reptile, while clawed hands formed leading into thick arms and broad shoulders. The torso that soon swirled into existence retained the hole, though it had expanded to about the size of a human head, spikes of bone like shattered ribs flanking it. The creature's back coalesced with several obsidian growths like sword blades jutting outward while black ichor oozed from between them, an unpleasant sight. More disturbing still was the head, or more accurately, the lack thereof. The thick, scaly neck that came forward ended at a black stump. For a second, the new form was still before the body twitched, the stump at the end of the neck bulging before oozing more ichor. With each new twitch, the flesh parted further to reveal the old man's bearded face, his eyes wide and completely blank until his head pushed through, firmly a part of the reptilian body. Taking a great breath, the man clenched his new fingers hard enough to gouge furrows in the stone beneath him and screamed to the heavens.

To Caster's fascination and mild disgust, white, clay-like fluid spewed from the man's mouth and from behind his eyes in a short torrent, flowing forward then doubling back, obscuring the man's face completely, muffling his scream before the material shifted; hardening and gaining details until it resembled a crocodile's head. Red points of light burned from the new eye holes. During the formation of its new mask the scream changed into a long, mournful and very familiar howling roar.

Despite the genuine horror of what she had just witnessed, Caster was practically shivering with excitement. She desperately wanted to know more about these corrupted souls now more than ever; the mask wasn't a separate entity, but something more intrinsic to the soul, and she was eager to find out what. Thus, her next command was a logical one: "Restrain that Hollow."

With a sudden jerk, the eel-like creature that had once been Kenji Nakamura whipped its tail sharply, propelling itself forward with its mouth agape, completely blindsiding the new Hollow. By the time the Hollow even regained its bearings Kenji had completely encircled the spike-covered beast and wrapped its arms tightly around its mouth. The newly formed monster hissed, the ichor in its back roiling and churning before bursting outward, taking with it the obsidian blades, which moved with the black fluid like they were attached. The blades turned and stabbed at the Hollow repeatedly, eliciting pained grunts from its captor, which only encouraged the rock-scaled reptile to send the shards of spiritual stone towards Kenji's mask. Inches from impact, the two combatants froze, completely locked in place, an intricate circle of purple energy opening up beneath them. The circle's energy pulled at the two Hollows, dragging them through, where they seemed to dissolve from sight.

Standing near a specially prepared magic circle, Caster's chant picked up speed through the power of the Divine Words, calling her familiar and its captive to the safety of her workshop, where the circle would bind them until she finished her preparations. Her new familiar was in need of some further testing and "discipline," but now she had some more material to work with, which expanded her research opportunities greatly.

* * *

Bazett took a step back, her eyes wide as the masked ogre approached her and Daisuke on its knuckles like some kind of demonic gorilla, leaving the twisted wreck of the old swing set behind. "**I wondered who smelled so delicious recently. So many new, delectable scents: you two will make fine appetizers,**" it grated with its burning eyes flicking between them. "**Now, which do I eat first?**"

In the mock-contemplative silence that followed, Bazett finally took notice of the group of people that had gathered at the park, several pointing at the wreckage while remaining blissfully unaware of the eight-foot tall horror. _'Damn it,_ none_ of them can see it?_'

"McRemitz-san? Why aren't we running away screaming in abject terror yet?" the human spirit next to her whimpered, too scared to think about flying away on his own.

Apparently the mask, despite completely covering the beast's head, did nothing to impede its hearing. "**Yeah, why aren't you? It's no fun if you don't struggle a little.**"

Shuddering at its mocking tone and watery growl, Bazett slowly slid her foot back, watching for the slightest cues for when the creature would actually attack. "Daisuke, be ready to run. We need to get someplace where he can't follow." She kept her voice down, but her eyes were still locked with the beast's own.

"Amen to that."

The monster reared up higher, startling the Irishwoman at the sight of the large hole that ran clear through the monster's chest. "**It's been such a long time since I've had any real fun, so tell you what: I'll give you both a ten second head-start. One…**"

It took all of Bazett's enormous willpower not to bolt at the start of the count. To her chagrin, Daisuke didn't have any such restraint anymore, and he whirled back towards the more closed streets of Miyama. "Watanabe-san, wait!" She almost regretted calling out to him when she recalled that she was screaming to empty space to the rest of the world. "Damn it," she growled to herself as she took off in a different direction from the ghost, hoping to stall the creature while it selected a target, leaving a crowd of rather confused and even a few amused spectators, many looking for signs of movie cameras or special effects teams.

Just a black away from the park, the magus started in surprise when the ghost that had fled appeared before her, gliding smoothly but swiftly. "This way!" he shouted as he spun back around and darted down a side street, the redheaded living human close behind.

A moment later had the magus panting while the ghost looked about the house they ducked behind warily. "Watanabe-san… running off like that… when he gave that count only… only means we're playing by his rules," she gasped out between breaths.

"Listen, I'm sorry, but I've _seen_ that thing before: he prowls around every few months and hunts ghosts, and he's impossible to stop! I lost track of time, or I would have warned you! If he catches either of us, it's over!"

"But now we're playing his game! If we just stayed calm, I could have come up of a plan! Now that we're together, he can track us both!"

"Trust me: running _is_ the best plan."

Bazett's attempt to argue the value of keeping a level head under pressure was cut off by the slowly building pressure on her insides, the dark aura of the monster's steady advance on them drawing her full attention. "Do you know of anything that can hurt this thing?" she asked instead, her tone dropping into cool neutrality.

"N-no… Anything that hits them they usually ignore except if they're curious. Let's get moving, I can feel him getting closer, and judging by your expression, so do you."

Nodding in affirmation, Bazett checked the immediate area before sprinting down the street and back towards less inhabited areas of the suburbs. She had no doubts that this demon wouldn't care about involving bystanders. Thus, it was imperative that she try and head more towards Ryuudou Temple and the surrounding forest where there were fewer people. No creature was totally immune to pain and injury, but she figured that at the very least she needed to somehow enhance her gloves with a method of damaging it, though which runes would have that effect when combined would take time she likely didn't have at the moment.

Her only other option was to somehow goad the stalking devil into using its greatest attack skill. Even the gods themselves feared the Noble Phantasm she carried with her lineage. Unfortunately, it was unlikely she would even recognize the strongest weapon in the monster's arsenal even if she did prepare one of her remaining three shots with Fragarach. If she did manage to respond with it properly though, it wouldn't matter how powerful the creature was.

All these thoughts and several plans to somehow shake their pursuer raced through her mind in under a minute, though it was hard to concentrate with the creature's aura tailing them. Worse, it was more subtle, making getting a fix on its exact location impossible. Sparing a glance back, she was at least comforted to know that it wasn't right behind her or anywhere is sight. The woman dared not stop running however, not when she could still feel it ominously stalking them both.

She was aware that this kind of persistent pressure weighing down on her thoughts was another facet of the masked creature's "game;" most people, and likely other spirits like Daisuke, would break under the mental strain of knowing that they were being hunted by something they can't fight and fully intends to kill them. Bazett was only faring as well as she was due to her own training and having been in several life-or-death struggles before. Daisuke, however, was likely to get them both killed unless Bazett could keep him reasonably calm. She cursed under her breath in Gaelic at that particular hurdle.

* * *

Just a few blocks away, another spiritually attuned warrior was quietly cursing his luck. Standing on a rooftop about a hundred yards away from the park where the Hollow had reappeared after flickering out of his awareness, Uryu scanned the park for any signs of the Hollow's movement. The Quincy originally expected this to be a simple matter: find the Hollow via his awareness, fire a single arrow to kill it and then catch up with Rukia and Chad before heading back the Verde Shopping Center for lunch. It turned out to be much harder for a few reasons. One, the Hollow was cunning and able to suppress its spiritual pressure for short periods to move undetected, and even pulsed its aura to create a cloud that blurred his actual position. Two, the corrupted soul behaved like it was almost as adept at sensing as he was, allowing it to avoid him before he could line up a shot. And three: he wasn't nearly as used to the layout of this city as he was Karakura. Several good vantage points were closed to him due to other buildings blocking his needed line of fire, and jumping from roof to roof was frustrating with how irregular the heights of the various buildings were, slowing him down notably.

Checking his watch, he scowled in a manner not too different from his erstwhile rival. It looked like he was going to be a little late for the gathering. With a quick motion, he pulled out his phone, flicked it open and hit the contact list entry for Chad. As always, the gentle giant picked up in two rings.

"Ishida?" the half-Mexican confirmed at the other end.

"Yes. I'm afraid my opponent is a bit cannier than I expected. This will take a little while longer than I had hoped. Let the others know that I'll be a little late."

"Mm. Will do. Rukia's already finished with hers. Do you want either of us to back you up?"

"No, it's not terribly strong, just clever."

"Alright. Give a call if things get out of hand."

"Of course. I'll see you at lunch." With that, the pale boy hung up and expanded his awareness again. The Hollow was moving slowly, its signature blurred carefully to make pinpointing it nearly impossible. Adjusting his glasses, the archer vanished from his perch in a Hirenkyaku.

* * *

Sitting at one of the many tables within the Verde's food court, Orihime enthusiastically waved down the recently-arrived pair of Chad and Rukia, who quietly pulled up chairs and seated themselves. "Hi, guys!" she greeted vibrantly before she noticed the missing member of their team. "Where's Ishida-kun?"

"He'll be late. The Hollow he went after is proving a little trickier to catch than he expected," Chad explained with a very slight shrug.

"Jeez… should we start without him?" Ichigo sighed, inwardly teetering between amusement at Uryu's trouble with a lone Hollow and worry over the potential damage one could do if allowed to escape. Any that could escape the Quincy's vaunted senses was definitely a cunning bastard.

The petite Soul Reaper across from him nodded. "May as well. We can update him once he catches up easily enough. Who wants to start?"

Tatsuki shrugged, and lowered her voice, leaning over the table conspiratorially. "Nothing much on our end. Aside from the forest, everything seems pretty normal here."

Rider interjected quickly, hoping for some clarification. "Inoue-san said that the forest resembled Hueco Mundo. What is that, and more importantly, what does it mean?"

The comparison had Rukia and Chad briefly expanding their awareness to pick up on the forest's output more closely. At a distance, it wasn't very strong or anything more than _dark_, but on closer examination it did somewhat have a similar feel to that realm of eternal night, not to mention sharing an overabundance of spirit particles. Rukia's brow furrowed, but she still had the presence of mind to answer. "It's the realm of the Hollows. They spend a majority of their time there when not hunting human souls. I can see the similarity, but it's thankfully not as heavy or as dense," taking a moment to allow Rider to make sense of her analysis while the others contemplated their next move, Rukia then turned her eyes back to the group. "As for what it means, I'm not sure. At the very least, something is there worth investigating. However, we'll hold off on that at least until the Soul Society gives us that reply to my report today. It should be waiting for us when we get back to the hotel."

The assembled warriors nodded, Ichigo speaking next. "Anything at last night's battle site?"

"Nothing. Someone restored the park to its original state, though your spiritual pressure still lingered," the resident giant told him. "Ishida guessed it was because your spiritual pressure is either too dense for them to handle or that they simply lack the means to handle spirit energy at all."

"Considering that Einzbern girl was spiritually aware, I'm pretty sure it's the first option."

"Maybe, maybe not. Spiritually attuned sight is considered relatively rare among magi. Even then, it is doubtful that there are many mystic traditions centered around ghosts beyond drawing on their life experience for knowledge," Rider explained thoughtfully. "Even if she could see your soul's form, if she wasn't exposed to spiritual power often during her training, she would have had to settle for repairing the damage and not erasing your signature."

Rukia brought her hand to her chin. "Strange. I would have figured that something as simple as seeing ghosts would be pretty common with them."

"I'm afraid I don't know much more on the subject. I am no magus, and even then, magic is like science in that it changes over time as new things are learned. People also rely more on technology today than from my era, meaning there are less magi in positions to pass on their lore."

"Damn. So aside from a few Hollows, nothing's really happened so far?" Tatsuki summarized. "Some war…"

"It's better this way," Chad reprimanded the tomboy softly, who sighed in resignation. "Maybe we should change tactics. These magi are too good at blending in for us to simply track down traditionally."

"We'll discuss it later, but there is one more thing we have to address: Tatsuki, Orihime, your new friend McRemitz-san is showing signs of becoming spiritually aware."

The looks of unease on their faces and the way the two girls focused their attention towards Ichigo startled both him and his Servant, the Vizard returning their looks blankly. "What? I didn't do anything! Besides, she's soaking up my excess spiritual pressure, right?" he countered their unsaid accusation while jerking a thumb in Rider's direction.

"As far as I've gathered, he's right, and even then, what does he have to do with a person becoming spiritually aware?" the Servant added, now curious.

Rukia gestured to the two girls and Chad to her side. "Ichigo's enormous spiritual pressure that he normally bleeds off affects souls around him over time, empowering them until they develop spiritual awareness and sometimes, like in these three's case, powers of their own. Ichigo is right, though; it's not his fault this time. Rather, we believe it was Bazett's own near-death experience mingling with being near us all yesterday so quickly after recovering. The plan is for me to erase her memories tonight, though if she's already developed awareness on top of having as much spiritual pressure as it felt like, it might at best only make her forget the fact she tailed us earlier today."

Naturally, neither Orihime nor Tatsuki looked too terribly thrilled with that, having had their memories wiped before. While they understood the necessity, it still irked them that they needed to do so to someone they had come to know as a good person. "You sure we can't just bring her in and shut her up with the truth?" Tatsuki ventured. "If she's really going to just remember later, it might be better to…you know… tell her some of it? It'll save a lot of headaches."

"The less she knows the better. She might be a friendly acquaintance, but her true goals and affiliation are still unknown. If she becomes overly persistent, we can consider other options, but bringing her into the mission would be a serious breach of protocol," the violet-eyed Soul Reaper replied.

Despite disapproving of the situation, Orihime sided solemnly with Rukia, knowing that the revelations would likely shatter Bazett's entire world. "No, Kuchiki-san's right, Tatsuki-chan. The less people that know what we know, the better." Tatsuki glanced at her, clearly annoyed with the opinion, but nodded in acceptance. She was most definitely not happy about it, though.

Ichigo stood up. "We'll get to the details once we get back to the room. While we're waiting on our resident archer, I'm going to get something to eat."

Most of the others had the same idea, but Orihime and Chad opted to remain at the table for if Uryu showed up before the rest returned to eat. They could handle waiting a few more minutes, though their stomachs protested their neglect mightily.

* * *

Bazett checked to the left, to the right, and above before darting across the street, Daisuke doing the same before joining her. Only the life-or-death urgency of the situation kept her from blushing at how strange she must look to the oblivious civilians she was passing. "Think we lost him?"

The ever-present feeling of predatory intent had vanished a few minutes ago, but Bazett still had her doubts. "Better safe than sorry. Come on, we need to at least reach the hill to the temple."

"Why? What's so special about it?"

"The fact that monks have established a monastery on top of such a strong source of natural energy means that they likely put several spiritual barriers in place. You should be alright, being harmless, but a mass of power and malice like that creature will find it hard to move. If not, we'll at least be away from people, so we can act more freely."

"I hope so, this is driving me crazy!"

"That's the point for him, I think."

A few minutes later, the pair had worked themselves further west, occasionally feeling their stalker's presence, though it seemed to be having trouble locating them, sometimes moving in the wrong direction. This fact was encouraging, but neither spirit nor magus was in a mood to push to push their luck.

It proved prudent when something… _cold_ appeared overhead, which turned out to be a black rip in the sky, from which a very distinctive, ape-like shape dropped through and onto the road ahead of them, the two red lights of its eyes boring relentlessly into their souls. "**So close and yet so far. Home base was just a few more blocks away!**" the creature chuckled mockingly, fully aware of their destination. "**But it looks like I win this little game again. Now, which of you do I eat first?**"

Despite the weight of the monster's stare sapping her courage, Bazett forced her shaking body to move and grabbed the paralyzed form of her ghostly companion by the wrist and sprinted back towards the narrowest alleys she could see. The creature's broad body would likely have trouble fitting through them, and she would be able to react to its movements to double back if necessary. Part of her knew she was just delaying the inevitable, but she wanted to live, dammit!

The masked creature didn't follow immediately, finding some amusement in its prey's defiance. Seeing them duck into an alleyway, the Hollow chuckled. "**A clever move. However…**" with a grunt, the shield-armed stalker leaped onto the rooftops, gleefully watching his prey slip through the narrow space towards the next street. In truth, the Hollow knew that it wouldn't be able to squeeze in after them with its thick arms and broad shoulders, but it did have a method to compensate. With a mirthful chuckle, the Hollow pointed its claws down towards its prey and let loose one of its favorite weapons: each claw was attached to an elastic cable-like tendon that allowed it to impale and reel in prey. These cables were also able to bend and twist to his will, making them ideal grapnels. As expected, the first few shots missed, the magus and the ghost darting to and fro while it herded them away from either exit.

"Damn!" Bazett hissed as the stretchy cables pierced everything the monster fired them at. Garbage cans practically shattered from the force, and holes were punched in the concrete wherever the spike-tipped ropes connected. The masked monster was playing with them!

Daisuke was in a panic, his attempts to escape repeatedly cut off by the strands that were as solid to the ghost as they were to the magus. "I don't wanna die!" the ghost wailed, probably not noticing the irony of his declaration, as he pulled at one of the cables of sinew blocking his escape. Finally, when both were herded directly beneath the Hollow, the creature fired its fingers again, this time twisting them in mid-flight to wrap around Bazett's left wrist. "McRemitz-san!"

"What are you waiting for? Get out of here while he's busy with me!" she screamed back at the ghost, who started in shock. He started drifting back while the creature reeled his companion in like a fish on a line. Once the ghost faded from sight, the young woman focused her full attention on the monster giving her a hungry glare with saliva dripping from between its fangs.

With an amused chortle, the creature spoke in its warbling tone. "**How noble of you: sacrificing yourself to protect some lost soul. I can respect that. Besides, your soul smells so delectable and charged with spirit energy that I'll be full enough from you. He's small fry by comparison.**" The rope of muscle pulled her higher, likely giving the illusion she was floating to any passersby, though it didn't seem like any were nearby.

Once the creature lifted her just a little higher, she planted her feet against the wall behind her and pushed prana into the runes inscribed within her gloves' fabric. While she doubted it would amount to much, a magus hunter didn't simply roll over and die. Even if all she did was piss it off, Bazett Fraga McRemitz fully intended to go down swinging. Concentrating her will, she pushed as much power as she could spare into her gloves. With a sharp kick off the wall, she brought her free arm back and slammed it into the mask's eyehole, the glove's rune hardening the leather to steel toughness.

The Hollow looked at her flatly as the punch slammed into its mask with a resounding crack. "**Nice try, but you can't hurt me with some cheap shot. Too bad,**" it grated amusedly, though it was quietly nervous at how the hit actually proved quite painful through the mask. If she had ever received any real practice with that power in her, she might have ended up cracking its mask rather explosively. With a swish of its arm, it slammed the woman onto the roof across from its perch, stunning her from the impact before it retracted the extended claw back onto its arm. She recovered surprisingly quickly, but didn't have nearly enough time to do more than regain her feet before it was upon her, the right arm raised to disembowel the woman.

Both magus and Hollow were caught by complete surprise when the spectral from of Daisuke Watanabe appeared, gripped the magus and pulled her behind his insubstantial form with a sharp yank. The Hollow's claws plowed into the spirit's ribcage, shattering several bones in a sickening, wet crunch. Globs of the spiritual equivalent of blood splattered from the man's mouth and onto the impaling arm.


	11. Interviews with the Spirits: Part II

A/N: I am SO SORRY ABOUT THIS! This chapter was such a pain in the ass it stopped being funny two weeks ago! The muse just wouldn't cooperate! Still, I don't want to keep you guys waiting forever, so I wrestled with it until I felt reasonably content with it. That said, there are a few parts I'm thinking about extending, so I'll probably be playing with this chapter for a bit.

Special thanks to Logan~ Murder of Crows for his help. Seriously, your ideas are awesome: you'll know what I mean later in the chapter. Also, thanks L002 for those words of encouragement, and to all of those who reviewed and/or faved this tale.

As always, questions, comments, reviews and PMs are always welcome. Enjoy!

_Interviews with the Spirits: Part II_

The moment Bazett had told her to leave was the same instant Daisuke realized he couldn't. Maybe it was guilt, maybe it was the way the woman placed his afterlife over her own life (let's face it, such behavior isn't exactly normal), or perhaps this guilt was over simply leaving her behind with the monster at the park earlier without a second's thought. The point was, he couldn't run away from the only person alive (or dead, for that matter) that had selflessly put her life on the line for a complete and already dead stranger. Either way, he couldn't bring himself to take advantage of the Hollow's fascination with the redheaded young lady to flee to safety. Perhaps this selfless act of foolish bravery would be the very act that he needed to perform in order to escape the purgatory of drifting as an aimless ghost, and he could at last find peace and pass on to his final reward.

But, much to his astonishment, being run through by a monster's pickaxe-sized claws hurt like a **bitch,** even though he was technically already long dead. The ghost found himself painfully hacking up whatever the spectral equivalent to blood was, his soul mimicking the living sensations associated with the new injury. Agonizing, mind-numbing pain unlike any he had ever experienced burned through his being. Worse still was the sensation of crushing terror he was feeling in the face of this revelation, hopelessness seizing his heart in its crushing embrace. "W-What are you…" he choked back towards the stunned Bazett as blood dribbled down his chin, "waiting… f-for? Run al...ready!" As he spoke haggardly around his failing lungs, his breathing ragged and drawn, the man wrapped his good arm around the monster's limb, vainly hoping to keep it from pulling back and buy a few more precious seconds for his friend, for all the good they'd likely do. The fact that she was over twenty feet off the ground on a rooftop without the ability to fly didn't exactly register through the haze of agony settling over his senses.

The Hollow's glowing eyes narrowed in obvious amusement before it released what could only be described as a braying, mocking cackle. "**Oh this is simply too rich! You finally find your spine right when it's about to be ripped out!**" The masked ogre then simply lifted the ghost to its mask, drawing a strangled gurgle from the choking soul, his eyes betraying sinister intent as he stared darkly into Daisuke's defiant eyes. "**You know what? I like you, kid. You got guts, and I can respect that,**" The creature's tone had taken on a veneer of amiability, only just hiding its malevolence. "**Hell, it's been ages since anyone of you shrimps had any gumption. I think I'll keep you around for a bit.**" In lieu of a reply, the man still impaled on the monster's claws spit a wad of blood at his eyehole and missed, further amusing the Hollow even as it opened the tiger-like jaws of its mask. "**Still got some fight in you after all this? Pity. But I think you'll start seeing things my way after I do… THIS.**"

Bazett, despite having seen some pretty disturbing practices and events over the course of her life that would break the spirits of normal men many times over, still found it gut-wrenching to hear the ghost scream in agony as the monster literally ripped out its chest in one horrendous crunch of its fangs, shredding flesh, bone and the metal of the chain before tossing the tormented wretch over his shoulder with a snap of its arm. Watanabe writhed for a few seconds, screaming while clutching his head with his one good arm. Even though she had regained her footing, Bazett remained rooted to the spot, paralyzed by horror from the spectacle playing before her eyes. She was only snapped back to reality by one final scream from Watanabe, his words oddly clear and coherent despite his earlier state.

"GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!"

And then he simply… shattered.

If sheer horror described Bazett's emotions before, there wasn't a word strong enough in any language she knew to describe what she felt watching the events playing before her now.

The form of the man had collapsed as if he was made of cheap glass and hit with a shotgun blast. The… remnants floated almost lazily in the air, their color shifting in the light before violently swirling back towards each other and stretching, assembling into a macabre, dull gray-green form vaguely combining a baboon with a porcupine, its back absolutely covered in long quills, though the body was built with more ape-like qualities, but notably less muscled than the gorilla-like monster to its side. Just like the original creature, the new body drew the eye to the gaping, volleyball-sized circular hole that ran clear through the lower torso. The headless form twitched, and Bazett had to fight back the bile rising in her throat as she watched Daisuke's human face push out from of the neck with a howling scream. The white fluid that erupted from his mouth and eyes turned her stomach further even as it coiled back, sinking in and pushing out in places until it resembled a baboon with its teeth bared in animalistic rage, the pitch-black eyeholes of the mask igniting with a sickly yellow glow. The jaws finally parted, a thin stream of steam hissing from the cold, black void behind the mask. "**So… hungry…**" Daisuke's voice slowly resonated from within the mask, sounding deeper, darker, and more primal.

The elder of the creatures let out another hearty laugh that lacked any genuine warmth. "**Of course you are; you must be starving after all this exercise! But don't worry, my new friend: your first meal right over there! Can't you just **_**smell **_**how delicious her soul must be?**" The monster obviously took some perverse pleasure at the prospect of the one who had tried to protect the woman turning around and eating her instead, apparently fully appreciating the terrible irony in it.

With a tilt of its muzzled head, the new monster gave two long sniffs, small ropes of drool leaking from behind the bone mask's teeth. "**Delicious… yes... Her soul… ripe and strong… McRemitz… your soul… give it to me!**" Daisuke's warped voice almost lilted in anticipation of the feast the first was hinting at.

Bazett didn't bother to wait for the conversation to reach its conclusion, opting instead to simply get the hell out of there, though part of her mind, the dispassionate warrior, coldly reminded her that the hesitation at Daisuke's transformation into another monster had likely already killed her, and she was now living on borrowed time. She was now dealing with two monsters hungry for her soul. While there was a chance that Daisuke's new form would hesitate to… to _eat_ her, the fact that the first monster was already goading him to attack her wasn't exactly very promising.

Rather than dwell on it, she jumped over the alleyway onto the roof of another house, her instincts as a martial artist barely warning her in time of the monsters' pursuit and the barrage of grappling claws the stalking demon launched. Some of the strikes were aimed at odd angles or curved in mid-flight thanks to the ropes of muscle attached to them, forcing the Irish magus hunter to bend, jump, and twist at extremely sharp angles to evade them all. Worse, the monster had dropped all pretense of a hunt in favor of toying with her like a cat with a cornered mouse, flitting in and out of her spiritual perception and herding her maliciously towards the end of a street where the buildings ended over a wide crossroads. Between its claws gouging holes in the rooftops from its missed attempts to hamstring her and the second monster loping after her in a blood-frenzy, Bazett's stomach was sinking at the increasingly hopeless scenario. Added to the fact that no normal person was screaming in horror from her monstrous pursuers reminded her that she was the only one aware of her own plight.

Speaking of the normal people…

"Hey, look at that!"

"Wow! Is that parkour? In a _suit?_"

"Daaaamn!"

"She's nuts! Who in their right mind would want to do something like that?"

Despite the situation, Bazett couldn't help but mentally groan at the comments from the peanut gallery down below even as she flipped her body on her hands to avoid two claws and threw herself over the alley way between two of these houses, landing on her feet and ducking in a roll before speeding off amidst the "oohs" and "aahs" of the civilians. Her legs were burning, her heart hammering in her chest, half-tempted to leap off the roof at the end of the street as she approached the last house. Unfortunately, she wasn't quite ready to do so in broad daylight. Sure, she could reinforce her legs to absorb the impact, but pulling that kind of stunt and walking away would draw WAY too much attention. She planned to simply hop off the roof and duck out of sight, even if it would require her to almost stop, something she was increasingly loath to do with these monsters nipping at her heels.

Slowing, she prepared to drop down to ground level when she felt something blur into being before her.

That rat bastard of a monster had somehow slipped ahead of her and blocked her exit, its bulky frame too wide for her to circumvent, especially with those massive arms. "**End of the line, pretty lady. That was fun and all, but the new guy's gotta eat,**" it explained with a smug grin, visible as a curving of the balefire orbs within its eye sockets. Sure enough, the spiny beast crossed over the gap between houses, landing heavily on the roof just as the woman turned towards him.

"**Hungry… feed me… feed me a SOUL!**" Daisuke's bestial form shrieked as he lunged towards Bazett, who grit her teeth and braced for impact, slipping into a fighting stance. Dead woman walking or not, she was still determined to go down in the same manner as her hero, even it was hopeless. Her pride as the carrier of the _Fragarach_ demanded it.

Such plans were shot to hell by a cross of blue light impaled Daisuke's head from behind, the pointed tip protruding through the mask's open mouth. With a gurgle through a spray of blood, the creature's monstrous body shuddered and dissolved into glowing dust on the wind, briefly revealing Daisuke's face, impaled but oddly at peace before he too dissolved into nothingness.

Before she could even blink, she felt the air displace, her short hair blown to the side and her eye instinctively closing from the light shining to her left. Sparing a glance, she was greeted by the sight of a bolt of blue energy inches from her face. The energy was indeed in the shape of a cross, the longest beam stretching behind her. Turning further, she flinched slightly at seeing the arrow of light inside the first monster's eye socket, its body frozen in silent agony inches from ripping into her shoulder. Seconds later, it dissolved, though no human form appeared before doing so like Daisuke's did.

Despite being so close to the energy, the sudden stillness after her chase and the fact that both the masked monsters and the crosses of light had all dissolved into nothing had the redhead too confused to move, nor did she think to try and locate the shooter or even attempt to take more than a cursory probe into the energy of the crosses. It took several seconds before her brain registered the fact that she was no longer in immediate danger. When it did, she simply dropped to her knees, the adrenaline leaving her system and taking most of her energy with it. Suddenly exhausted, Bazett focused her mind on what she could understand from this morning's incidents while her body recovered:

1: She could now see spirits somehow.

2: Evil spirits hunted ghosts and those with the ability to see them.

3: These evil spirits could turn other ghosts into more of their kind.

4: She was saved by what looked like crosses of blue light fired at high velocity.

The specifics of these facts eluded her, but she lacked several crucial pieces of information, so it wasn't exactly something that she could do much about right now. She was too startled at the time of the sudden rescue to consider the source of the energy, though her new sense did give her enough of a glimpse for her to note that it seemed… familiar. Given the motif of the bolt, it looked like something an exorcist of the Holy Church might use. The only one she knew who might be able to do so was the man running the church on the opposite side of the bridge: Kirei Kotomine. However, the likelihood of the man being able and more importantly willing to save her was practically the same as him being a saint (i.e., laughable). Besides that, Kotomine's duties limited how far he could leave the church on top of his obvious detachment and lack of concern towards human life, especially so early in the War.

So did that mean that the Church had deployed another exorcist to take care of these monsters? Or was there another group at work in the shadows? Bazett regained her feet, having recovered enough to consider a slightly more pressing concern: where to now?

About three blocks away, Uryu quietly dispelled Ginrei Kojaku, the spider web-like bow dissolving into a swirl of blue spirit particles, leaving only his Quincy pentacle in his palm which lightly dropped to the end of the short chain around his wrist. The archer sighed, relief flooding him at how close he had cut it. If he hadn't fired at that very instant, those Hollows would have claimed McRemitz-san's soul. As he quietly dropped down behind a dumpster from his sniping position atop a small Bed and Breakfast's roof, Uryu cursed the first Hollow, following it almost immediately by a curse to himself. The fact that he had fought so many strong enemies in succession had hampered his sensory skills against small Hollows. Combined with the fact that most of said opponents didn't bother suppressing their spiritual pressure, and he had a slight lapse in picking up in the subtle signals of a Hollow in hiding. By the time he managed to reassess its position and track it down, the human ghost had been turned and both were after McRemitz-san.

Texting a message to Ichigo, the Quincy offered a silent prayer to the human spirit he had to destroy as a result of his lapse in awareness. _'Never again,'_ he mentally vowed.

* * *

Ichigo's brow twitched. "Okay, I understand why everyone wants to hang around here at the Verde for a while."

Rukia smiled with just a hint of smugness while she nodded.

"And I agree with Inoue that Rider needs clothes to keep up the illusion of being normal…" he continued.

Orihime nodded, both at his comment and at the skirt in her hand as she evaluated it.

"And I'm all for chivalry…"

Tatsuki rolled her eyes, obviously just as annoyed with the situation as Ichigo was, though for slightly different reasons.

"But why am **I** the designated pack mule for **all** the bags?" he finally ground out as he adjusted his grip on one of several purchases from various stores stacked in his arms.

"What else were you going to do? You already finished getting souvenirs for everyone back in Karakura," Rukia asked him while she considered the various scarves lined up on the display with a critical eye. "Besides, we need our hands free."

"There's that arcade a little ways down," Ichigo stated without any hesitation. Tatsuki perked at that suggestion. She never really got into the shopping madness that gripped a large number of the girls back home. Besides, there wasn't anything that really caught her eye in any of the clothing stores and she didn't feel like digging through racks and piles for something interesting. Like Ichigo, she did her souvenir shopping and was done, leaving her horribly bored. Arcades, on the other hand, always fired up her competitive streak.

Orihime pouted a little as she turned to her two spiky-haired friends. "But you know Rider-san would follow you, so we wouldn't be able to get her to try any of the outfits we find." She still felt uncomfortable at the whole Master/Servant dynamic that Ichigo was forced to endure with the taller woman. The auburn haired girl also felt distinctly uneasy whenever Rider was close to Ichigo, which was pretty much whenever they were in the same room. She was hoping to spend time with Ichigo alone, but she doubted Rider would let it happen while the War was going on. She could only hope that Rider never developed more than a friendly relationship with her Master.

Rukia, on the other hand, simply got a bit of a kick out of seeing Ichigo, one of the strongest warriors on three planes of existence, serving as a mostly obedient, if mouthy, pack mule. "Don't tell me you expect us to carry all of these bags without some help, especially with Chad still looking for souvenirs," she threw out, knowing that Ichigo would cave and stay.

Ichigo's scowl deepened a bit and a low growl emanated from his throat, but he didn't retort or make any move to leave, and Tatsuki settled back into a bored posture. "Tch. Fine, but after Ishida gets here, we are _done_. Fair?" he compromised, finding relief at the girls' nods of agreement.

No sooner had he said this that Rider came out of the dressing room, clad in a white long-sleeve button-up shirt and a knee-length black dress skirt that hugged her hips slightly, with dark stockings. "I understand my cover is as your teacher and chaperone, but must I dress the part?" she asked, lightly tugging at the hem of her skirt. "I don't have nearly the range of motion I prefer in this." Despite her apparent discomfort, no one in the group, and likely no one in the whole store, could see a problem with her ensemble. She wore it quite well, her curvaceous figure turning the conservative outfit into something many teenage boys might see in their fantasies, or that many girls wished they could match. Either way, the lavender-haired beauty didn't really notice or seem to care. While she actually liked the sophisticated look, she felt uncomfortable in the restrictive garments.

"You never know when you might to be a little more formal than what you normally wear or just need some variety," Orihime pointed out while handing the confused woman another small stack of skirts and shirts. "Here, try these next; they'll look great on you!" she said, almost hurriedly pushing the Servant back into the dressing room. She secretly chanced a glance at Ichigo, who was leaning his head against the wall, eyes closed and his scowl the same as always.

She was quietly glad he hadn't noticed how good Rider looked in just about everything they picked out…

As it turned out, once the Quincy archer finally arrived and ate his lunch, his own souvenir shopping, combined with his meticulous perusal of various materials and supplies for his sewing hobby kept the group at the Verde for an additional three hours.

Ichigo would have rather faced Ulquiorra without access to his Hollow mask or his Bankai than go through this torture ever again. _Especially_ since he was _still_ relegated to "pack mule" for all the bags save for a few that Chad took off his hands.

* * *

For Shirou, the last bell couldn't have come soon enough. Over the rest of the day, the Master's mind constantly replayed the conversation with Rin Tohsaka over and over, more specifically, the last bombshell she had dropped to explain his strange "spirit sight."

"_Aside from the obvious, it might mean you are no longer human."_

Hearing her say that felt like being hit by a truck. At the same time, he couldn't really fathom what exactly she was implying. How could a person simply stop being human? Sure, there were stories (more like case studies) of humans becoming vampires or one of their undead minions, but Shirou was rather doubtful that this was the case for him. Still, Tohsaka likely had at least some logical reasoning to suspect him losing his status as a human, though exactly what he might be instead and the implications of such a thing were rather vague at the moment. While he was content that he hadn't changed into some kind of monster or lose sight of his dreams so far, it still didn't sit well with him to suddenly be labeled non-human. So what did that make him, and what did it mean for the future?

'_Damn it! Why can't I stop thinking in circles?'_ he mentally groused while he packed his bag and left the classroom. Tohsaka had told him that they would rendezvous back at his house, so Shirou wasn't terribly surprised that the girl was patiently waiting for him just off campus, the translucent form of her Servant standing behind her with his arms crossed and expression grim. For a second, Shirou noted with a hint of amusement that the red coat the Master preferred matched the red shroud the Servant wore, like they coordinated with each other about it. Nodding to the pair, being careful to lock eyes with each to signify that he could still see the red knight, Shirou and Rin started up the road that led to the Japanese-styled estates.

The walk was silent, though the atmosphere between the three… beings was tense. Tohsaka's eyes were slightly narrowed as she doubtlessly poured over her hypotheses and how to explain them. Shirou's mind refused to come off its loop about his predicament except when he felt Archer's coldly analytical stare boring a hole in his head. The hostility was palpable, though Shirou mostly wrote it off as a Servant diligently analyzing a potential threat to his Master. Saber would have probably done the same thing to Tohsaka if the positions were reversed. Of course, this did nothing to alleviate the intensity of the hawk-like vigil Archer had on him. Worse, Shirou couldn't exactly turn and ask Archer to stop trying to set him on fire with his eyes without pissing off his ally further, and he'd rather not disturb Tohsaka's train of thought.

He never could recall a time where the gates to the Emiya mansion looked more inviting.

Scratch that, they definitely were as inviting last night, when he had stumbled home and what he had hoped was away from Lancer. _'Wow. It's only been _one day_, hasn't it?'_ The redheaded magus mused.

Stepping into the living room, he politely offered his physical guest a drink, and quickly pulled out a few small snacks while the red knight stayed outside. "By the way, Tohsaka, what's Archer doing while we're in here?"

"Members of the Archer class have the best eyes of any Servant, so he's keeping watch for enemies while we talk."

"Makes sense."

"By the way, you might want to call Saber in on this, as it affects her as well."

Shirou nodded, having expected as much and retrieved his still sleeping Servant. Within a minute, the Servant and Master were patiently waiting for the more experienced magus to start explaining her theory. "Alright, let's review. First off, you're an amateur magus who somehow managed to pull the Saber-class Servant in an act of desperation without any real preparation or practice, right?"

"Y-yeah."

"And since then, you've slowly started seeing spirits, including but not limited to astralized Servants."

"We know that much."

"And lastly, but most importantly, you have gained some form of healing ability that rivals the regenerative power of a Servant."

Shirou nodded, Saber quietly listening to every word without taking her eyes off the pigtailed girl on the opposite side of the table. "I take it these skills have only recently manifested?" she finally asked once it became clear that Rin was done with this part.

"Ever since I got stabbed by Lancer in the school the night I summoned you, strange things like that have been happening. Any ideas?" Shirou replied to the blonde.

Rin opted not to reveal how he survived being stabbed in the heart that night, but quietly added the event to her calculations. "Alright, as near as I can figure, something happened that night, something that altered the very nature of your body and soul."

"Well, don't keep us in suspense; what happened?"

"No clue."

Shirou deflated, but he wasn't terribly surprised. Technically she answered what he asked: she had no clue _what_ changed him, but she obviously had some idea to what the mystery event did to him. With a sigh and a sip of tea, he rephrased his question. "Okay, so what do you think happened to me?"

In true Tohsaka fashion, Rin didn't hand him the answer, but tried to get him to pull his own conclusions based on the facts. "As insane as it sounds, your abilities are quite common among certain types of entities. In fact, you've already met several with these powers. Think about it: what entities can do those things as easily as you suddenly can?"

Shirou wracked his brain for what she meant, not really drawing any firm conclusions, so he turned to Saber, only to be pulled up short by her almost unnervingly intense stare. For a second, he stared back, confusion crinkling his brow before his ochre eyes shot open at the connection. "Oh, no way! Uh-uh, not possible! I'm an amateur, and even _I_ know what you're hinting at is impossible!"

Saber nodded in agreement. "I'll admit that there are parallels between his abilities and a Servant's, but what you appear to be suggesting is dubious at best, Tohsaka-san."

"Relax, you two. I'm not saying you're completely alike, but you're more like a demi-spirit. You can't deny that your new powers are very similar to those Servants and some powerful humans enjoy. While I admit that a normal person suddenly gaining spiritual powers for no reason simply doesn't happen, you might have started developing a kind of… resonance with spirits."

"Resonance? You mean I might have a different kind of link aside from the one between Master and Servant?" Shirou pressed, too focused to even nibble on the snacks he'd set on the table.

"As near as I can see. In all honesty, this is new territory for me, too. If it you only exhibited one of these new talents of yours, I could write it off as a simple case of you borrowing Saber's power, but what you've described suggests something more… pervasive, like the very nature of your existence has changed."

Shirou mentally recalled his day, and realized that the chaos of the morning had derailed his routine, so he hadn't exactly tested for any other strangeness in his body or magical power. "Well, if I really have some kind of connection, would it affect any of my physical or magical abilities?"

"Theoretically, it could do a lot of things," Rin answered vaguely as she sipped her own tea slightly. Green tea wasn't exactly her personal favorite, but it wasn't that bad.

Saber, having been silent with her own thoughts, finally spoke. "It's best not to make the theory any more complicated than it needs to be. Perhaps this is a result of his near-death experience, combined with drawing power from me to regenerate himself and nothing more. The ability to see or sense spirits is not exclusive to Servants or even simple spirits. Some humans are inherently more sensitive to spiritual phenomenon."

Rin quietly laced her fingers together, leaning on her hands for a moment, her crystal eyes distant, only occasionally flicking up to look at Shirou, as if she suspected him to be doing tricks when she wasn't looking. "Maybe…" she finally conceded, "Regardless, we'll need to look into any further abilities you might have developed and how they work."

"I agree. I'd rather not use up all of my life energy simply because I didn't realize I was using it to power a new skill until it was too late."

Rin smiled in approval. "We'll start small; a simplified set of exercises to test your strength and endurance, along with a few tests of your magical potential and what all you can do with spirits."

"Alright. What's first?"

"We'll do it the quick and dirty way," the more experienced of the two mages elaborated, "Saber, if it wouldn't be too much trouble, do you think you could spar with him? I don't want to be presumptuous, but if he's somehow stronger than a normal human, you have a better chance of measuring his strength with your own without getting hurt."

"Whether I do or not depends on Shirou," Saber replied flatly, her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Shirou didn't even hesitate for a second. "Let's try it. I was hoping to get a chance to train with you anyway. I know that you're strong, but if I can learn how to fight from you, maybe I won't be as helpless as I was against Lancer and Berserker."

After that, the rest of the daylight hours were a haze of pain and sweat and probably a little blood. He'd later learn that Saber not only smacked the ever-loving snot out of him with the _shinai_ he'd handed her, but that Tohsaka's methods to draw out some measure of his magical potential practically had him peeling open his own soul like he would an orange.

The results? Well, he was apparently in excellent shape for his age, the picture of physical health, but nothing special and his magical ability was, in a word, pathetic. So that translated into no superhuman strength or speed, no enhanced or spontaneously opened Magic Circuits, just this weird set of abilities centered around spirits. On the plus side, he'd found that by running prana through his normal Magic Circuits boosted his ability to hear and see Archer, whose continuous stream of snide remarks on the general uselessness of his new ability (Archer justified them with "sometimes the things you don't want to hear at all are the most important things _to _hear.") only incensed him to try harder and for longer.

Shirou knocked himself out for nearly an hour doing that. After he came to, Tohsaka had given him the rest of the night to relax. Of course, she had yelled at him for being so stubborn as to not know when to quit, which she considered almost as bad as being as reckless with his own life as he was against Berserker. Shirous only solace after that was that Sakura had an Archery Club meeting that day and Fuji-nee had a staff meeting to attend. As such, he didn't need to worry about anyone walking in on him and his new companions.

In thanks he made everyone dinner, which also revealed another side to his Servant.

It started shortly after he'd finished spreading the various dishes across his table, places set for his two dinner guests. Archer refused, not needing to eat as an astralized spirit, and opting to stand guard rather than socialize. While Shirou and Tohsaka discussed possible strategies to handle the other Masters and Servants, the boy noted Saber's rather peculiar behavior. In all honesty, Shirou didn't expect the obviously foreign woman from another era to know how to use chopsticks, but she did, and handled them with characteristic elegance. She'd stare at a dish for a few seconds, take a single bite of the dish then nod her head in approval before staring at another and repeating the process.

"Hm? Is there something wrong, Saber? You look awfully intense," he asked.

"Nothing, really. It's just that this food is all quite excellent. Do you always cook to this level?" she replied with a completely serious look on her face.

"Oh, well, I try. Consider it a thank you for all you've done for me so far."

Tohsaka finally seemed to acknowledge the food on her plate. "Let me try." The pigtailed magus took a careful bite of a tempura-battered shrimp. Chewing thoughtfully, the magus swallowed and started to smile. Not in approval, but almost a smug expression. "Well, it _is_ good. I'd still win, though," she assessed.

"Huh?"

"Oh, nothing. Maybe one day you'll learn," Tohsaka's smirk wasn't exactly comforting to the red-haired magus, as nonsensical as her statement was.

During the meal, Saber alone ate enough for three people, though always with the same regal grace that she put into every little motion. For a bit, she tried to restrain her intake, but once he and Rin finished, Shirou encouraged her to eat her fill.

"Her fill" consisted of just about everything left on the table. Both magi had to wonder where the tiny woman put it all.

After the dishes were put away, Tohsaka thanked him and wished him a good night. She also explained that while he recovered from the day's ordeal, she'd patrol the areas around their respective homes for signs of other Masters and Servants. It was risky, but with her far greater skills as a magus, she would have a much easier time making an escape if she had to.

It didn't mean that Shirou had to like it.

* * *

Uryu hopped over the ten-foot gap between two small buildings effortlessly, clad proudly in his immaculate white Quincy battle garb, the same utilitarian style of suit he had worn in Hueco Mundo, freshly crafted and pristine. Pausing, he scanned the surrounding streets of Miyama slowly, knowing that Chad was purposefully letting off slightly more spiritual pressure than normal down in the streets. The two veteran warriors were playing at drawing out Hollows and Servants with the potential meal, while Uryu attempted to locate their Masters and pick off ambushing Hollows with his inhumanly sharp senses and speed. The hope was that they would be able to repeat Ichigo's success from the previous night and finally start fulfilling their mission objectives.

When the six warriors returned to the hotel, they had found an envelope on their table, and the place was utterly saturated in the residual spiritual pressure of a recently departed Soul Reaper. Naturally, Uryu had been irked by their hands-off method of ordering them about. If you were going to put the fate of so many souls, and perhaps the whole world, in the hands of their little group, it would be nice for the Soul Society to at least put forth the effort to have someone on hand to answer their questions or concerns!

Setting those thoughts aside, the Soul Society really had no complaints about their ad-libbed methods of combating the Servants and Masters. In fact, it was suggested that Ichigo continue to participate as a Master for the time being, at least until more intelligence about the "Holy Grail" was found. As it stood, if the source of the attacks on souls was found, they were all given the choice to capture or eliminate as they deemed necessary. With the information attained the previous night, it was generally agreed that Berserker would need to be eliminated due to his destructive insanity, while Lancer was more likely to be captured. If they found the one able to feed remotely, all parties agreed to elimination, save Orihime, who was uncomfortable with the conversation on principle, even if she understood the necessity.

On their end, Rukia's captain, Jushiro Ukitake, was personally working through the Great Spirit Archives for information on Rider's "Throne of Heroes" and if there were any records of strange phenomenon occurring within the Seireitei during the times associated with the last Holy Grail Wars. In addition, the Twelfth Division had asked for more information on Heroic Spirits at their convenience, though the careful wording by Rukia had managed to keep their mad scientist of a captain from becoming interested directly.

"_Thank heaven for small mercies,"_ Ichigo had said when that piece of information was passed. None of them were exactly comfortable with having to hand over a soul of any stripe to the crazed scientist.

The rest of the day consisted of comparing notes and assigning roles. Rukia needed to find Bazett and wipe her memory, and Ichigo and Rider, still essentially traveling as one unit would escort Tatsuki and Orihime through Shinto while she did so. Icihgo initially wanted to take the same role he had the previous night, but Uryu managed to talk him out of it, stating that his display of power would have sent weaker Servants scurrying, and it was actually pretty unlikely that Berserker and his diminutive Master would take the same route twice. On top of that, now that he had revealed his power, it was highly likely the other Masters would avoid him if he was such obvious bait again.

So here he was with Chad in Miyama at 11:30 at night, twitching occasionally as he picked up on every single soul within range of his senses. He'd be damned if he let another lapse in vigilance cost anyone their lives or worse, their souls.

Down on the street, Chad could practically feel Uryu's tension in the air. Ever since he arrived at the Verde, he'd been tightly wound. He didn't say why, but everyone could see it even if they lacked the skills to sense it. The giant didn't pry, though he made it a point to pay careful attention to the white archer's behavior for clues. So far, the only thing of note was a distant Hollow, which Uryu dispatched instantly. Chad only hoped that Uryu's tension didn't cause him to jump the gun and hurt someone unintentionally.

In a white blur, Uryu appeared at the mouth of an alley, his eyes hard and tense. "What is it?" Chad asked in a low drone.

"I sense a strong spiritual pressure with the same linked nature as Rider, drawing its power from a nearby source. I'm going to check it out. I'll try not to take too long. If possible, I'll only need to ask a few questions then fall back."

"Mm," the half-Mexican assented while slowly pulling in his spiritual pressure. "How long should I wait before I come find you?"

"With these Servants, I can't be sure. We'll err on the side of caution and say seven minutes, counting travel time. If you can't find me in five minutes after that, contact the others."

"Got it," the towering teen said just before Uryu vanished in his signature speed technique.

The Quincy blurred between rooftops until he reached the source of the energy, and he crouched to get a better look at his potential enemies without his clothes giving away his position. Both were clad in red coats, though the taller of the two, a tall and heavily tanned man of indeterminate age with a swept back shock of stark white hair, was obviously the Servant. His body was sturdily built but not bulky, and his angular features were creased slightly by lines of tension, giving him a fierce expression that could give Ichigo's best scowl a run for its money. Black armor trimmed with silver was plainly displayed under his coat, and his every move carried razor-sharp awareness and the bearing of a proud warrior. Unfortunately, he carried no weapons so it was impossible to guess his class at a glance.

In contrast, the pigtailed girl was alert and graceful, but by no means as much as her companion. Despite the serious look on her admittedly attractive face, she practically radiated confidence, most likely due to her trust in her Servant's abilities. Even with his presence suppressed, the Servant obviously could tell something was amiss, judging by the sudden yet subtle shift in his stride, while the girl simply swept her gaze around carefully.

Naturally, he was thoroughly impressed when the red knight stopped, whispered to his Master and scanned the area before, amazingly, spotting him on his perch. While Uryu was clad in white, his position on the roof only allowed the top of his head to be visible from the street where his night-black hair melted into the darkness. The Servant's eyes were indeed sharp; even though the Master tried to follow his gaze, she obviously wasn't able to see the Quincy from his perch.

"Rin, there's someone up there watching us. Do you want me to drag him down?"

Visibly unconcerned by the man's implied threat, Uryu stood to his full height, his white clothes immediately catching the young magus's eyes. He could almost hear her thoughts flickering about her head: _"How could I have missed _that_?"_ For a moment more, the archer kept his cobalt eyes locked on the Servant's steel grey ones, surreptitiously analyzing the pair's spiritual pressure. Of course, with the Servant, such a thing would only be of limited use, as unstable as they tended to be in his limited experience.

However, the magus at his side was the one that captured his attention. While she herself lacked much in the way of spiritual pressure, most of it being funneled into her Servant regardless, there was a certain… familiar feel to it. It was startlingly similar to a Quincy, in actuality, the way the spirit particles moved around and through her. Also, he could sense extremely dense "nuggets" of spirit energy, highly concentrated sources that lined the magus's pockets like the Ginto in his own pockets. Perhaps the Quincy arts were adapted from the mages? An interesting hypothesis for a later time, he mused. With a slight motion, he hopped off the building, slowing his fall with the ambient spirit particles almost reflexively until he landed in a gentle crouch. "Good evening," Uryu greeted, his hands open and at his sides. Until he knew this particular pair's motives, there was no real reason to act aggressively.

For her part, Rin had no idea what to make of this white-clad figure. His outfit was about as unsuited for stealth as humanly possible with white shoes, white slacks, a white shirt with a blue trim and white gloves, but the design was well-thought out for mobility, his shoulders only slightly obscured by a white shoulder cape like some old nobility might have fancied. A black belt slung across his waist was the only spot on the outfit that wasn't pure white or trimmed by a rich blue. "Who are you?" she ventured, trying not to sound too uneasy or angry. The figure couldn't have been any older than her, and didn't trigger her Command Seals in any way. That said, there was something about the teen before her that set her mind on edge, an instinctive wariness of potential danger triggered by the boy.

The figure adjusted his glasses in a slow, deliberate fashion. "My name is of little consequence right now. I'm not here to fight," he replied.

"Then I assume you're here to talk?" she ventured, her arms crossed in disbelief.

"Precisely."

Rin didn't need Archer's quiet warning to switch to a defensive position at the clipped response, her Servant moving before her to await her command. She continued to hold her eyes to the white figure's own, somewhat comforted that her invisible Servant was between her and the black haired teen. "What could you want with me in the middle of the night? I've never even seen you before."

"…It's strange." His oddly curious tone set Rin on edge, even as he remained perfectly still, trying to remain visibly non-threatening. "It is obvious to me that you are a magus, and yet your spiritual pressure is almost no different from a normal human's. I only have a couple of questions for a human magus."

Archer and Rin both tensed at his words. The million dollar question: how did he know she was a magus? The girl had shared the paranoia of any practicing mage, careful never to use her powers in public if at all possible. Was this figure watching her altercations with Lancer or Saber? "Ask away, but I want to know a few things about you for them," she called back coolly, her eyes narrowed dangerously as she slid her arm into her coat pocket, fingering a small garnet loaded with fire magic.

"That will depend on your answer. The most important question I have is this: what do you seek the Holy Grail for?" the man cut straight to the heart of the matter, his tone shifting to a commanding one, attempting to force an answer from her.

Archer's eyes narrowed into dangerous slits, still waiting for the order from his Master. Despite the boy's slight, almost willowy build, Archer could feel the air warping in his presence, the mana within it twisting around him and oscillating around his left hand in preparation for her answer. An unsatisfactory answer would likely be met with an explosively fast intervention spell. "Rin, be careful. He's far more powerful than he's letting on."

"I can already guess that. Do you suppose he's a Master?" she whispered carefully, still watching the boy through her invisible guardian's back.

"Most likely. Though this… direct approach screams the work of a Servant, he definitely isn't one."

Uryu's brow twitched very slightly, agitated as he was by the hushed whispers between the two. "Is it really necessary to question your Servant on your own motives?"

_That_ set Rin off. This figure obviously had some psychic ability, and likely knew too much for someone not participating in the Holy Grail War. It was time to turn this little Q&A session around. After that, she would need to wipe his memories. "Archer, restrain him." With a nod, Archer materialized, obscuring her view of the bespectacled teen. In an instant, he closed the gap between them, arms up to knock the boy unconscious. No normal human could possibly react to such speed.

The fact that the boy materialized with a swish of displaced air several meters to the side and out of Archer's reach only proved how abnormal the white warrior was. The boy's expression hardened and his hands lifted as if drawing a bow in Archer's direction. "Is that your answer? My apologies for this, then," he said before revealing his weapon. The air twisted around him, light bursting from his palm into a spider web of blue energy, partially transparent and flickering in and out of Rin's perception. She didn't need to have any experience with such a technique to tell that it had some serious bite behind it.

The explosion of debris from the "arrow's" release and impact into the concrete only confirmed it.

* * *

On the opposite side of the bridge, Bazett slept in her hotel room, or at least she appeared to. In reality, she was still fully dressed under the covers and only hovering at the very edges of blissful rest, her body and mind wired to jump into action at the slightest creak of the floorboards. She hadn't been this tense in years, but ever since the morning's chase, the magus hunter had practically jumped at shadows the whole day, half-expecting masked monsters to come at her from every direction, masks open wide to devour her.

Naturally, she had retreated to her hotel room, debating her next move and when to make it. The woman lacked critical information, and the danger level of the situation had spiked beyond the simple need to lay low from the church. If these creatures were drawn to the "scent" of her soul like she was beginning to suspect based on the masked monsters' words, it would be like trying to evade hunting dogs if another came after her. _'No, not "if," more like "when,"'_ she corrected herself. This would be one of the few times that Bazett would need to actively solicit help in this problem. Evil spirits were not her forte, and she needed some method of shielding herself from them.

After that, she would need to isolate and confront one of those kids at that fancy hotel. Ideally she'd be able to have a chat with Rukia, though part of her considered it too much of a risk. If she really was the leader of their little cadre, it was also likely she was the most powerful, or at least the most capable. She doubted she would have an easy time cornering her and likely an even harder time weaseling information out of her.

'_Perhaps if I…'_ her thoughts started, but were interrupted by another sensation against her skin, like a static charge. She dare not open her eyes, but her other senses attempted to pick out the source of the sensation. Sure enough, she could hear the faint sound of small feet scuffing along the carpet without much real care for stealth heading towards her bedside. For the sake of appearances, she remained still and kept her breathing slow and even until the figure was in arm's reach.

While focusing her full attention on the figure, she found that her newfound spiritual sense, when focused on one spirit, gave her a rough estimate of that soul's form. While not exactly detailed, she did get a rough idea of what her mystery guest was up to, as well as set aside her fears, due to it being humanlike rather than a monstrous beast. When she felt the presence of a hand reaching towards her, she jumped into action, her arm snapping up and grabbing the small figure's wrist and throwing herself out of the bed, whirling behind the _very_ small figure and lifting her off the ground, wrapping her free arm around its neck and effectively locking the intruder in place. "Who are you?" she demanded.

The figure didn't reply immediately, allowing Bazett to let her eyes adjust to the low light after she had had her eyes closed for some time. The intruder was short and thin, barely reaching her chest, and clad in a black robe of some kind. The little figure's hair fell away from narrow shoulders, and the white sheath of a sword poked against her side. Finally, the figure's fingers and wrist shifted. "Bakudo One: Sai," a soft, female voice intoned calmly.

Instantly, magical energy twisted her fingers into open claws, ripping her hands away from the intruder as her arms swung behind her in a bar across the small of her back with force sufficient to unbalance her for a second. Worse, her arms locked in that position, bound as securely as if someone had shackled her with heavy iron manacles and chains. The intruder landed gently, hands dropping to the sides and turned to face the Irish magus. Large Indigo eyes greeted her, set in a face as delicate as porcelain, but with the expression of a professional soldier. "Your spiritual awareness is more developed than I expected…" she said slowly, rubbing her wrist for a second.

Even though Bazett had her suspicions earlier, seeing her dressed like a warrior was unbelievably surreal. "K-Kuchiki-san?"

Nodding once, the girl's expression softened. "I'm sorry McRemitz-san, but we can't have anyone knowing about us, at least not yet. Maybe if your abilities continue to develop, I could tell you more another day," she explained as she reached into the sleeve of her robe and withdrew what looked like a lighter.

"Hold on! What are you talking about?" she shouted, trying desperately to get her frozen arms and hands to move, stalling for time as much as she could, even as she moved to the side, trying to put the bed between her and the small swordswoman.

"It's alright. I'm not here to harm you. Also, it would be best if you didn't try to break my Kido, for your own safety. I'll release it once I'm done."

'"_Kido?" So she IS a magus!'_ Bazett thought frantically. Though she didn't recognize the discipline, the name alone, "the Spirit Way" was enough for her to work with. Immediately, she started flooding her Magic Circuits with her od, finally sensing the problem: the Circuits in her arms and shoulders were blocked by a foreign energy, likely the spell Rukia had tagged her with. With a violent surge, she expelled the energy all at once, allowing her to bring her arms around to her front, immediately shunting some of the energy into her gloves' runes and the rest into Reinforcing the muscles in her arms and legs. Rukia's look of surprise allowed Bazett the split second she needed to lunge towards the bed at inhuman speed and, with a single heave of her temporarily enhanced strength, flip the mattress on top of the smaller girl. The move again startled the girl, who likely never expected the magus to have so much raw strength, but she hopped back to safety. As soon as the mattress left her fingers, Bazett turned and bolted to the balcony, throwing open the sliding door just as Rukia spotted her.

In an instant, barely registering the concerned shout from the petite swordswoman, Bazett vaulted over the side, dropping two stories and landing in a crouch in the street. The impact sent her into a crouch, and she took advantage of to propel herself away from the building, almost flying through the streets at speeds normal humans couldn't hope to match. It only lasted seconds before the magic in her legs wore off, forcing her to slow down to more human speeds for a moment before she stopped behind a small grocery store to catch her breath and rest her burned out legs. While casting Reinforcement on her legs allowed her to exceed human limits without lasting harm, it wasn't a terribly easy technique to use on one's body, a fact that limited its usefulness. Still, she had put almost a mile between her and Rukia in only a little more than a minute.

'_Okay, so she made the first move. I'm at the disadvantage, and I have to be careful to watch for Kuchiki. As it stands, it is highly likely that only Tatsuki and Orihime are uninvolved in this mess.'_ She tried to reason to herself as she caught her breath. Her break was short-lived. A sensation of a source of power rocketed towards her at unbelievable speed, swamped her with sensations akin to a blizzard, causing her to shiver briefly just before the petite woman in black literally appeared before her seemingly from thin air. For the Irishwoman, the most terrifying thing was that the power swirling around her from Rukia was far greater than the monster that had pursued her this morning, an almost palpable weight on her shoulders rather than a mild pressure.

"Bakudo Nine: Geki!" she declared sharply before Bazett could even lift her hands past her waist, a red glow constricting her entire body and locking it in place. The woman immediately worked to counter the spell by running od through herself again, only to note the red energy was entirely external, so she would need to press the prana outward, pulling mana from the outside to combat the spell's paralysis before the smaller girl did anything else.

This time, Rukia didn't say a thing as she held the lighter to her face and flicked the switch. The resulting burst of smoke and light released by the little device felt like it had blown the prana clear out of her Magic Circuits, barely shielding her from a brute-force attack of some kind on her mind. At the same time, the girl released her spell and let her drop. The sudden loss of energy in her Circuits left her completely exhausted, her body simply going limp. Vaguely, she thought she saw a toy chicken's head on a spring coming from the little device in Rukia's hand before her depleted muscles went completely still. She kept her eyes closed for the incoming ground, only for the small girl to catch her easily.

"Sorry about this, McRemitz-san," she told Bazett's seemingly unconscious form softly. Despite her small size, the girl proved inhumanly strong, easily shouldering the limp magus and gently, but quickly, jaunting back the way she came. By the time Bazett felt strength return to her limbs, Rukia had gingerly lowered her onto the floor of her hotel room, placing her back against the wall beside the TV. Staying still and waiting for the perfect opportunity to subdue her captor, Bazett heard the indigo-eyed girl dial a phone and wait for a second. "It's me. Where are you?" Rukia spoke softly, as though not wanting to wake her recumbent form, which was actually highly likely.

She paused as a voice too quiet to hear clearly responded from the other end.

"Yeah, I think it worked. She tried to resist, but she's out now."

…

"Her spiritual pressure's pretty strong. I'd estimate only a little bit less than yours was when we first met. She broke a low-level Kido without much difficulty. She'll likely only forget tailing us today for a week at best, but that's it."

…

"Right. I'll meet you there," the conversation ended and she put away her phone before heading back to the balcony, the door sliding mostly closed before Bazett's sixth sense determined that the girl was leaving. She sat there for a few minutes longer, not wanting to risk being up if the startlingly dangerous Kuchiki girl realized she forgot something and came back to check.

Slowly pulling her still off-balance body upright, she sighed at the state of her room. Flipping a mattress on top of a person is a _superb_ way of messing up a hotel room completely. While she still lacked information on her motives, it seemed that Rukia only came to wipe her memories of her suspicions without harming her, and obviously didn't expect her to weather the mental blitzkrieg like she had. Judging by the speed of the act, if she hadn't already had prana coursing through her and resisting another spell, she would be out cold with several hours of her memories replaced or simply gone with no time to react at all.

Either way, the magus now had a hidden advantage: the teens (assuming they weren't somehow older than they appeared) had no idea she still had her memories, allowing her to get closer without anyone growing suspicious so long as she was careful, at least for a short time. Admittedly, she was obviously outclassed in terms of magical ability, but that just meant she'd have to fall back on her other strategies for dealing with stronger magi.

Opting to forgo sleeping on the floor after taxing herself so suddenly and being immediately enervated, Bazett tugged the mattress into a level position before her, shed her suit to just her white dress shirt and panties, and covered up under the disheveled blankets. Despite her exhaustion, she didn't fall asleep for quite a while, as occupied as she was over what to do tomorrow. At the very least, she knew she needed to address the evil spirit issue before another decided to attack. She'd need to avoid ghosts at least until then. Before she finally fell asleep, she briefly wondered if Servants had this problem, being spirits and all.

* * *

'_Well, it's safe to say _that_ plan backfired in spectacular fashion…'_ Uryu thought to himself as he evaded another white bolt of condensed spirit energy- _'no, it's prana,'_ he corrected himself while shooting another bolt of his own.

Uryu's first shot was intended to force the Servant to draw up short, keeping him at range where Uryu could maneuver out of sight and drive the warrior back, emphasizing his superior positioning against the enemy until he could arrange for a ceasefire and speak again. From the information Rider had told them, only two of the classes had viable long-range options without revealing their Noble Phantasms: the Caster and the Archer, and neither class was really suited for such open combat as to wander the streets so freely.

Just his luck that this Servant turned out to be the Archer and determined to prove him wrong, judging by the barrage of retaliatory arrows from that black longbow he'd pulled from thin air. "Damn!" the Quincy bit out as he vanished in a Hirenkyaku to evade a black ball of energy from the Master's outstretched finger and the small barrage fired by the Servant to hem him into it.

He stopped after landing to reassess his target, which had leapt onto the rooftops immediately after the Quincy vanished, both archers locking eyes briefly before drawing their respective bows.

'_At least I have the advantage of firing speed,'_ the teen noted as his blue bolts tore through the air, half of them easily enough to shoot every white bolt out of the air, the rest raining down on the red and black knight half a block away. _'Unfortunately, it's a fleeting advantage when I have to limit collateral damage.'_

Archer simply fell back off the roof, the arrows missing him by a matter of inches before striking the rooftop, where they dissolved into shards of blue energy and vanished. Righting himself was no trouble, and he landed with as much sound as a cat hopping down a stairwell. Closing his eyes, he envisioned his younger, but highly skilled and nimble opponent's reaction. The last exchange had been… informative.

Aiming his bow straight up, the red knight fired a small barrage of arrows, some shadowing others with varying degrees of precision. As predicted, the white bowman appeared over the gap between the two buildings the instant he released the second wave of his attack, whose eyes widened only slightly before he shot the first few arrows down with almost detached ease, nailing a few of the less well-hidden arrows, only for their "shadows" to continue towards the boy's joints and the muscles that controlled his bow. The white warrior's attempts to get a shot in were de-railed by his sudden need to shoot down the second barrage, leaving him no time to take advantage of the high ground before Archer was after him. Releasing his bow, the warrior instantly manifested Kanshou and Bakuya, the black blade aimed for the younger warrior's tendons along his arms, while the white blade remained back for a surprise. If his opponent couldn't use his bow, he couldn't fight.

Uryu deftly pulled the free-flowing spirit particles in the air to create a small platform in before him and kicked off of it, carefully evading the sweeping swords. No sooner had he realigned his bow that a white blur rocketed towards his shoulder, forcing him to twist acrobatically to evade the spinning object with only three arrows launched towards his enemy. The Servant obviously dodged them judging by the lack of noise or the sound of flesh being pierced. Correcting his angle to watch the Servant, Uryu again found his opponent closing in on him at speeds normally unattainable without a special speed technique. Using the broad structure of Ginrei Kojaku as a shield, Uryu swiftly parried the warrior's lightning-swift strikes with the black, curved sword. _'What speed and precision!'_ he marveled silently. Less than a second had passed in melee, and the man had lashed out half a dozen swift slashes while only aiming for debilitating injuries, not lethal ones. While by no means as strong or as fast as an arrancar, his abilities were obviously within the "superhuman" category.

Then again, the real problem lay in the dark-skinned warrior's cunning and obvious level of experience.

Long-honed combat instincts alerted him to encroaching danger, and Uryu instinctively dropped a hand to his belt, spinning one of the four Seele Schneiders on his belt into his grip and activating the arrow/sword before he was even consciously aware of the warrior's sneak attack. Shoving hard, the Quincy warrior managed to quickly glance behind himself in the brief instant before the Servant was on him again. Still, he was able to deflect the spinning weapon with the blue spirit-cutting sword before he returned his attention to blocking the Servant's assault with his bow. It was a testament to the larger man's skill that that tiny moment of distraction was enough for Archer to give his left arm a shallow but painful scratch. "Tch. Quite impressive swordsmanship for the Archer."

Archer remained silent even as the skinny speed demon attempted to skewer him with the lightsaber he had pulled out of his belt. The boy was obviously well-trained, but wasn't aiming to kill. That said, the kid obviously hadn't expected him to be as skilled as he was. Dodging the blows only incensed the boy to speed up, only slowing briefly to deflect the return of Bakuya as it sought its partner in Archer's hand. If he was holding back against a Servant, considering he obviously knew about them, he was either supremely arrogant or ignorant. Parrying a swing to his shoulder, Archer's eyes widened and he leapt back the moment the blades made contact. The boy smirked in response, obviously noticing the same thing he had.

The moment the blades connected, the black sword had buckled and chipped, small cracks spreading out from the triangular section carved from the blade's edge. Holding his hand out, he caught the returning white blade, noting the two missing chunks of its own edge briefly. "Pretty nice toy you have there, Whitey."

"Seele Schneider grinds down the bonds of energy that make up constructs like your swords and absorbs them," Uryu explained dismissively. "It would be wise to surrender; you are very skilled, likely my better in swordsmanship, but your abilities are similar enough to mine for me to counter, and I have far greater speed. I have no intention of harming your Master, if that is your concern." He wasn't terribly surprised by the Servant's silent dismissal of his offer, but he was a little impressed by his casual demeanor about it. Perhaps he was about to use a Noble Phantasm?

With a swift throw, the two broken blades screamed towards the Quincy end over end. Uryu's casual deflection of the black and white falchions sent them spiraling away erratically, only for them to turn back around towards him in midair. Eyes widened, Uryu barely reacted in time to keep from being skewered. With a blur of Hirenkyaku, he pulled back, the twin broken swords missing each other and arcing up once more before spinning back again. The moment he stopped, he found his vision impeded by another white arrow mere inches from his nose. With a grimace, Uryu threw himself backwards until he was almost parallel to the ground, the arrow barely scratching his glasses before he vanished again in a blur to the right of his position, taking up position on a taller roof of some store. "Now I see. Your swords are drawn to each other like the poles of a magnet. As an Archer, their primary purpose for you is to hem your opponent into position for a killing shot," he analyzed as Archer turned to face him, the spinning swords dissolving into nothing as he did so.

With a smug smirk, Archer kept his arm steady even as he offered his own analysis. "And you rely heavily on your speed because your body isn't really any tougher than an ordinary human's. In fact, your physical strength's only somewhat above average, and your method of Reinforcing your limbs only bolsters their toughness and ability to handle the strain you put on them for moving so fast, not your raw striking power. One good hit and you're done." At the last word, he fired another flurry of arrows. Uryu hopped back off the building just in time to evade the next few shots, only to see the white rain dropping on top of him.

"What?" He hissed in surprise as he spun Seele Schneider to cut away the falling arrows and increasing the weapon's power even higher. He could see the arrows being redirected over his head, almost like they were being steered. It wasn't impossible; hell, he knew a few trick shots that had similar results.

With no time to think about it at the moment, he leaped to the left, his spiritual awareness tracking the Servant as it came down to the street level. It was strange; raining destruction down from higher ground was often far better than playing nice, especially with all the buildings limiting lines of fire. He pressed his back against the wall of the building, his breathing tightly controlled as he prepared to fire the Seele Schneider. Archer was moving slowly and carefully, his unstable spiritual pressure blurring Uryu's perception notably. It was a rather impressive, if unintended, defense against his skills. The blurring effect made it harder to anticipate Archer's movements or aim without visual confirmation. All he knew was that the enemy was approaching, and that the warrior was eerily similar in ability to a Quincy.

Archer held his bow carefully in one hand, the other subtly twitching between being ready to fire another barrage and tracing a sword to meet another charge. His dark eyes narrowed as he neared where his opponent had ducked down. The alleyway he'd dropped into was sealed in the back by a high fence and, though it wouldn't trouble either combatant, would only put him further away from his Master. Both warriors were obviously attempting to steer the other in different directions: Archer was trying to push the white knight wannabe away from his Master long enough to escape back to her home, while his opponent kept trying to keep the fight close to her. So far, neither had been able to dictate the battlefield for more than a few seconds before the other pushed back.

He wasn't terribly surprised when the white archer shot out of the alley, strafing the Knight of Bows with a knee-level stream of arrows. _'Shit.'_ One of the oldest and most effective tricks for a shooter to use was suddenly turned against him, and he did the only thing he could really do: he jumped.

"It's over," the younger warrior calmly stated as he released the empowered Seele Schneider in a meteor of blue light towards him.

Archer scowled and Traced a single sword to meet the incoming attack head-on. Balisarda was about a meter long, straight and double-edged. The weapon was a one-handed knight's sword, known as an arming sword, popular during the eleventh century for its versatility and elegance. This one's faintly shining blade contained far more power than its simple design suggested at first glance. Balisarda once belonged to the Saracen knight Ruggiero, crafted originally by the sorceress Farelina and inspired by the design of the legendary sword Gram to serve as a tool to pierce mystical protections by simply ignoring any such powers on weapons and defenses beneath its Authority. Without so much as a taunt, Archer braced the blade with his forearm, the bow in his hands breaking into magic shards which faded to nothing with his dismissal.

The Seele Schneider had gathered enough energy from striking Archer's swords and arrows to punch a hole clear through a battleship's armor plating, so seeing the whole thing get turned aside by a simple-looking sword like it was nothing had Uryu staring in utter shock. The pause was enough for Archer to land and switch masterfully to the offense just as Uryu regained his sense and rearmed himself with another Seele Schneider.

This time when their blades crossed, Uryu was stunned to note that this new sword didn't even spark, ignoring the oscillating spirit particles as if the sword-arrow was just a bar of glowing metal. He could still feel the weapon thrumming with power in his hand, but the particles that made up the new sword just wouldn't give in the slightest! Now unable to simply carve through the hawk-eyed Servant's weapon, Uryu quickly realized that the title of "Heroic Spirit" wasn't an empty one, even when the Archer was forced to melee. Whoever this man might have been, he was **good**. While by no means a slouch with a blade, Uryu found himself parrying wildly to keep pace with the silver blade in the white-haired knight's hands. The warrior wasn't aiming to kill, at least it didn't seem like it, but Uryu wouldn't dare trust himself to the tender mercies of a magus participating in the Holy Grail War unless he knew their natures.

A sharp kick from a steel-toed boot snaked past his defenses and drilled into Uryu's stomach. In spite of the pain (he'd had worse, so it wasn't enough to really slow him down), Uryu was almost grateful for it as it sent him back well over a dozen yards, allowing him to roll and switch back to firing with his bow. Ginrei Kojaku rained blue energy on the Servant. His response was an impressive display of acrobatic prowess as he evaded several of the projectiles and blocked the rest with that seemingly unbreakable sword. If it wasn't the fact that he hadn't really done anything truly impressive with it, Uryu might have called it his Noble Phantasm.

Archer ducked behind an old green grocer's store and leaped up to the rooftops, once more calling his black bow into his hands. The nameless warrior narrowed his eyes. This fight had gone on long enough for Rin to go back home safely behind its numerous Boundary Fields, but he somehow doubted his opponent would just let him walk away. Tightening his grip on the sword still in his right hand, Archer only just heard the pinging sound coming from his left. His inhuman eyes picked up the source easily, but it didn't exactly make it easier to believe. Whitey was firing in the wrong direction, but the arrows were literally _bouncing_ off the walls of the various buildings at perfectly calculated angles until they screamed right for him! They were pretty imprecise but still dangerous, especially considering their composition. Moreover, the white archer was still moving, correcting his aim on the fly to rain arrows from practically every accessible angle. "Okay, so he's not bad," he grudgingly admitted to no one in particular in mid-jump, blocking four arrows along Balisarda's length while skillfully evading six more.

This little game continued for nearly a full minute, Archer's expression growing grimmer as the other archer started getting more and more accurate, several of his seemingly infinite arrows nicking his arms and legs. Landing on an adjacent roof, Archer sighed to himself as he mounted the legendary blade on his black bow as he would an arrow. "Never thought I'd need to do this so early…" Leaping off the roof, he fired just as Uryu landed on another roof across the street to take another shot. "Checkmate." The gleaming sword screamed in a fiery comet towards the Quincy even as Archer dropped out of sight.

Uryu saw the spiraling missile, though he really wasn't concerned. He sensed Archer had dropped down back to the streets and leaned to the side to evade the arrow swathed in red-orange spirit energy. It wasn't until it was almost passed him that he noticed two problems with it:

For one, the spirit energy in the air was being forced away from it, concealing the destructive power within. Two, it wasn't an arrow at all, but the knightly sword Archer had been wielding a moment ago.

Behind him was a small air conditioner unit which took the hit before it was consumed in a white flash of light. The explosion did more than simply rend flesh and metal, it blasted away all of the spirit particles around it, disassembling any constructs as it went. Ginrei Kojaku, any arrows Uryu was drawing, the Ginto he'd brought with him on patrol, the energy stored in his Seele Schneider, all of it broke apart and blew away in the flare of destructive anti-magic. The actual explosion was pretty small, but without his Quincy techniques to bolster his physical abilities, the full force of the blast slammed into him hard enough to throw him from the roof, agony searing through his shoulders and back.

It was only pure luck that he landed in a pile of garbage that broke his fall without crushing his insides. At least, he hoped it was just luck. He'd rather not believe Archer had led him on the whole fight for the purpose of leaving him stuck in this ignominious position until he could be hauled off to his Master like some dirty stray.

Extending his senses, Uryu could feel Archer's cautious approach even as he started pulling spirit particles back into the air around him from further out. He couldn't tell if Archer noticed his action, but he did pause about five meters from his position. "That's enough outta you for one night, Whitey. Just come out nice and slow and we'll do this civilly," Archer called out flatly.

"I'm afraid I'll have to decline. It is not in my nature to surrender needlessly." Uryu managed to say without sounding like he was in even half as much pain as he actually felt. As much as it galled him to admit it, Archer had outfoxed him in this encounter. Admittedly he'd made the mistake of underestimating his opponent and started the fight treating Archer like he would a low-level arrancar. It seemed that Heroic Spirits relied more on incredible skill and cunning rather than on their inherent power and instinct like most Hollows did. An interesting challenge.

Archer suppressed a wince. The kid was both skilled and gutsy, and from what he had gathered, the boy was only just starting to take him seriously. Whitey wasn't lacking in accuracy, speed, or power, but he thankfully lacked his decades-worth of fighting experience and only had his swords and arrows. With just those, he somehow managed to keep up with him and covered him in painful little cuts. He needed this fight over before any more tricks fell out of his sleeves. "Alright, have it your way."

Uryu didn't even think at that point, simply throwing himself upright and using Hirenkyaku to reach the roof he'd just fallen from before running back along the street's roofs until he entered a space with a normal amount of spirit particles. From there, he ascended on a pad of spirit energy for a second to reorient himself. He blurred back towards the ground just in time to avoid another arrow from his agitated adversary down below. He'd been led way off course, but at least he had an idea where he was thanks to his earlier patrols. He paused only long enough to snag the Seele Schneider that Archer had deflected earlier and honed in on Chad's spiritual pressure, who likely had contacted the others. That talk-turned-fight took far longer than he thought it would.

At least now he knew that the direct approach to dealing with Masters and Servants about the Grail was a surefire way to start a fight. Talking wasn't exactly on their agenda, it seemed.

His whole body aching and his back feeling like it had been grilled over an open flame, Uryu finally caught up to Chad, who was still on his phone. "Chad-san."

The giant turned, his normally expressionless face gaining a slight look of relief as he spoke into his phone while nodding in his direction. "Hang on, Ishida's just arrived. He looks pretty banged up. I'll call you back later." Hanging up, Chad's eyes widened behind his wavy mop of hair at his friend's battered and… smelly condition. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'll be alright. I'll last until I can get some healing," Uryu ground out through the pain, the adrenaline starting to fade and informing him just how viciously that last attack had turned the fight around. "On second thought, we should probably make our way back. I'm… in no condition to continue tonight."

"Mm. I'll tell the others," Chad grunted in his usual manner, though he made sure to keep an eye on his friend for if he needed support even as he pulled out his phone.

* * *

"Well, tonight was a bit of a bust, I'd say," Archer sighed while handing Rin a cup of tea to soothe her nerves. He had returned a few minutes ago, pleased to note that his Master had slipped away in the confusion the first chance she got after she lost sight of the two combatants. She was understandably annoyed with having to do so, but knew better than to stick around such a battle. Sipping his own cup, he sat down across from his Master on the couch, his expression oddly relaxed despite the white archer getting away.

"How strong was he?"

"Very. Almost on my level. Relied too much on half-finished magical constructs, though."

The pigtailed magus let the soothing brew warm her stomach for a moment, staring listlessly into the delicate cup in her slender fingers "I'm getting worried… first Berserker, then this mystery Rider swordsman, and now another archer? Something's not right, and it's starting to look like there's another group at work now."

Archer remained silent, his own thoughts a maelstrom of confusion and apprehension that belied his outer calm. "…So what do you want to do, Master?"

"I'm not entirely sure, but I do know it's no longer safe to be alone out there… there are too many enemies and too many unknowns now."

"Do you want to hole up here for a while?" he asked, not really expecting his fiery Master to accept, but part of him hoping, regardless.

"No. We have allies now, right? Let's centralize our position and regroup."

Archer looked like he had just taken a bite out of a lemon at that. "I hope you aren't thinking what I think you're thinking…" he mumbled under his breath. Smartly, he'd done it while concealing his mouth behind his teacup.

With a bit of a smile on her face, Rin simply said, "Tomorrow, we're going to set up a new base of operations at Shirou-kun's estate."


	12. Team Dynamics: Part I

A/N: Sorry about last month's unexpected hiatus, everyone. It's tough out there for a fresh graduate, and I kinda ran low on free time for a bit between family business and job-hunting. Well, I've still been plugging away at this story happily, so I present the next chapter without further delay!

Again, thanks to everyone who reads, reviews, and talks with me out there!

Also, on my profile is a little poll I set up, so if you've got a second, drop by and let me know: which fight are you most looking forward to in this story?

As always, I'm open to suggestions, opinions and just general chatting, so don't be shy about sending me your thoughts.

_Team Dynamics: Part I_

The day and night were both unbelievably productive for Caster's research. While many mysteries still lay temptingly across her table, she was starting to feel the mental weariness of pushing herself on the subject for so long, not to mention constantly splitting her attention between her work and her scrying of the various Servants. It wouldn't do for her to be caught off guard simply because she was too exhausted to properly prepare a defense. Regardless, her assumptions about Hollows being useful were spot on. While controlling one proved extremely tiresome, their powers and potential for generation and manipulation of negative energy were going to be well worth the effort, she could already tell. She could pick apart the two at her disposal all night long, but she wanted to keep a few intact for when she understood more about their natures and how she could utilize them safely. That meant that she needed more specimens to work with: at least twenty, ideally closer to fifty.

This of course led invariably to the question on the way to capture the violent spirits efficiently. Caster's research and experimentation on the two Hollows in her possession largely focused on this, leading her to create magically altered vials of water. They would do the job nicely, if she did say so herself. All that was left was the spread the liquid around a spot of her choice. Once soaked into a surface, the water would convert into a spiritual trap. These masked spirits would be drawn to the circulating energy and once they stepped into the circle it would convert into a boundary field that forcibly disrupted their ability to materialize, trapping the Hollow and cutting off its ability to use its negative energy, thus leaving it powerless to do more than thrash vainly at the barrier's walls. From there, she could forcibly summon the trapped specimens to her workshop or release them to cause havoc at her leisure.

The only other issue of significance lay in "baiting the hook." It would be a trifle to use her own prana and leave its scent in each trap, but that would be too easy to track for anyone remotely attuned to magecraft and speak of her own involvement. No, she needed something different, something unaffiliated with her or a neutral source from the land. Ideally someone else's prana which would then paint them as a scapegoat for her work if discovered. And it turned out that, yet again, Rider's Master had dropped a solution into her lap unwittingly.

One barely needed any skill at all as a magus to sense the vast amounts of furious energy the swordsman had used during his brief scuffle with Berserker. Amazingly, his power still lingered in places in spite of most having dissipated over the course of the day. Fortunately there was still plenty left for Caster's purposes, especially with how potent it was. There were even places where he had left minute traces at other points around the city wherever he paused for a moment. If properly harnessed and held within the circle for long enough, it would make fine bait without implicating her at all.

Caster loved it when a plan came together from nothing.

That said, she had to hand it to Rider's Master: he kept powerful company. Wherever he was from had no shortage of gifted beings, none of which were simple Servants or familiars of any stripe. The Master's companions held stunning abilities that paralleled the various classes. The boy himself was most definitely a Saber-like being, complete with a destructive energy blast that mimicked a Noble Phantasm. The petite spirit that appeared near the Hollow that emerged near Archer in the afternoon used a series of quick spells and a blade. The swift execution and potency of her magic placed her roughly in the Caster class like herself. Lastly, the white bowman who encountered Archer earlier in the evening was a skilled and swift warrior with both blade and bow.

Though the bespectacled soldier lost in the end, it was apparent that the red knight was hard-pressed from the first move with his superhuman abilities matched and countered expertly. Had that fight continued without the use of Archer's enchanted sword, it might very likely still be going on now, nearly half an hour after their duel had come to its conclusion. The boy's allies were all likely of the same vein and thus able to match Servants on their own, though she wasn't so presumptuous to believe that all of them could easily categorized in the same manner. She'd have to tread carefully if she planned to beat them all.

Returning her thoughts to the focus of those plans for victory, she considered the spirits already under her thrall. Her Hollow minions were being kept dormant via a magic circle at the moment while she considered her options. While she had no problems with letting them run amok in the city, Caster didn't want the orange-haired swordsman or his friends to eliminate them if they did too much damage. As far as marshaling her forces went she had eight vials prepared, each of which could hold a single Hollow indefinitely to be used when she was ready to begin her power play, on top of her weaker but far less unruly familiars. The combination of the blunt instrument and the surgical knife they formed would prove invaluable for her endgame.

As she went over her mental list of potential locations for her new traps for tomorrow night, a mental ping drew her attention. Her door guard was confronting someone, and her mental impressions from the spirit were appropriately wary, but somewhat confused. Caster stepped over to her scrying sphere to get a look for herself.

Seeing that particular red-eyed child at the door sent chills up her spine. _'What in Hades's name is _she_ doing here?'_

"**_Trofa…_**" she intoned sharply, the air around her writhing briefly from her command before swallowing her, taking her from her lab in a black vortex.

With that short space jump, the dark sorceress appeared just on the inside of the temple's main gate. She closed her eyes and stretched out her senses to her defender's conversation. "It is late, and my mistress has retired for the night. I do not mean to appear rude, but I must ask you, yet again, to leave," the smooth voice of her Servant explained levelly.

"This is important, though. I'm sure she'll come out if you pass along my request," was the reply from a high, sweet voice just shy of pleading. Caster could almost see the puppy dog eyes she must have been trying on the guard.

Said door guard sighed wearily. "You do realize that having your Servant here does not help your case."

Caster didn't even need to look to know that the girl had a mischievous smile on her face. "What? You want a little girl to walk around without protection with all those mean men out there?" Her tone would have had lesser men fumbling over themselves to apologize for the perceived slight.

Her Servant wasn't buying it. "Bringing such a powerful warrior along isn't exactly conducive to proposing an alliance, Ojou-san."

Instantly, Caster's interest was piqued. An alliance with the second strongest fighter (The fire-haired swordsman held the title of "strongest" with distinction) seen in the War so far? She'd have to be insane to pass up the opportunity. She opened one door with a slight flex of her magic and took a quick look around, her eyes hidden from view beneath the lip of her cowl. Sure enough the guardian of the gate, the Servant Assassin, a tall indigo-haired man of Japanese descent clad in the trappings of a swordsman for the Edo period complete with a sleeveless purple and gold _kateginu_ coat over his robes, was barring passage into the temple grounds from a small girl.

It didn't need to be said that Assassin was paying notably more attention to the silent shadow of the astralized Berserker behind Ilya than the diminutive Master herself. Caster silently thanked whatever patrons guarded this world that nothing had so far come of this little confrontation. Assassin wouldn't have lasted six seconds against that monster unless his Master held him back. Caster's attempts to gather her thoughts on the matter were interrupted by the childish Master a few steps down. "Ah, you must be Caster-san. Good evening," the young lady offered a polite curtsy. "My name's Illyasviel von Einzbern. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Caster, still within the protective membranes of her numerous Boundary Fields, smiled deceptively pleasantly. "Good evening. I understand you have a proposal for me?"

The girl nodded happily. "I do! I came here because we both have the same problem. See, there is one foe neither of us can _hope_ to beat on our own. Sure, I have Berserker and you are considered the most cunning of Servant classes with masterful defenses already in place, but compared to the samurai-oniisan out there we're outgunned by leagues. Therefore, I propose an alliance, if only temporary to eliminate the major obstacles."

Caster raised a delicate eyebrow. She already gathered that much on her own and wanted in on the potential benefits, but if you wanted any control in an alliance of this nature, you needed to restrain your interest until you learned how far the other was willing to go for the proposal. "There are other methods of defeating an enemy than simply overpowering them, child."

The "child" comment drew an annoyed tick above Illyasviel's eye, but she pressed on. "I know that, but I doubt even you with all your skills could compensate for the raw power at his disposal. The Boundary Field around this temple is very impressive, but from my testing, he could rip through it without much effort."

The elfin woman studied the girl at her fortress's doorstep dubiously. The boy she likely was referring to was indeed very powerful, but her defenses drew from a nexus of one of the region's fallen mystic leylines and as such their power was magnified several times over should she activate them. Only Servants with high Magic Resistance could power through her wards, and even then it would hinder them slightly and alert her to the intrusion. Then again, her knowledge of the fire-haired boy's power came from watching from a very long distance behind her shields. The Einzbern before her had to encounter it at point blank. "Oh? I don't think you are giving me enough credit."

"Well, maybe. I'd rather not start a fight right now and find out; it'd be rather inconvenient if we lit the whole mountain up and drew too much attention." The small purple-clad girl cleared her throat. "What I'm proposing is an exchange of aid, without compromising our mutual autonomy. If we join forces, you will have Berserker's aid should you need it to defend your fortress, access to my familiars' information, and I'll provide my family's lore that I have here in the city, some of which dates back over seven hundred years."

Caster was quite tempted by those additional perks, though if her research proved as fruitful as it was already looking, Assassin might be enough of a bodyguard once she was done even without them. "And in exchange?"

"I'll need some of your expertise to improve the defenses on my base of operations to keep the stronger enemies at bay, as well as access to your scrying skills should the need arise. More importantly, once samurai-oniisan is removed from the game, I want him alive. I haven't encountered a being like him before, and I'm curious about who and what he is," the girl explained easily. Of course, Ilya was more inclined to lay claim to the teen for more… personal reasons, but there was no need to say anything more.

"Hmm… I see. This is a very important decision. Would you permit me a day to think on it?" Caster was inwardly smiling in glee while her face maintained a veneer of polite pseudo-interest at the request. "As it stands, I am… distracted by the differences this War has over my understanding of prior events."

With another polite curtsy, the Einzbern magus smiled. "Of course. Don't keep me waiting long though, Caster-san. If you agree, I will be at the park just north of Miyama's shopping street in the afternoon. A simple missive via familiar will be enough."

She was quite well spoken for one so young, Caster noted. Of course, her physical appearance meant little. With Berserker as a brute force weapon/distraction, she would be stupid to pass up the alliance, but it would alter her plans slightly. If things went her way though, she could easily win the prize from behind the barriers of Ryuudou Temple, even claiming the Grail itself in due time without needing to move.

"I thank you for the offer. Good night, lady Einzbern." The girl quietly vanished back down the steps, the giant deterrent called Berserker close behind, almost daring them to try and strike his Master's back.

Assassin never took his eyes off the pair but still asked his mistress, "Do you believe the offer genuine?"

"Surprisingly enough, everything she has told us was honest. Of course, you'll note that she never said specifically when or where our alliance is over. The clever girl didn't even hint about where her base of operations was despite clearly wanting my help in protecting it. At the very least, she'll remain useful to me until Rider, her Master, and his allies are neutralized."

"In other words, she is a cunning enemy in spite of her appearance but more valuable for you as an ally right now," Assassin surmised.

Caster nodded and closed the temple door, leaving the fake hero to resume his vigil. This event required a change in plans. With an aggravated sigh, Caster strode back to her sanctuary to prepare the Hollow-holding vials for immediate deployment. "And tonight was looking so pleasantly simple… I hope Master is willing to wait for me a little longer…"

* * *

With the return of the Shinto group to the penthouse, Ichigo let out a low growl of frustration. "I swear if this 'War' keeps up this pace, the magi will beat us with sheer boredom. The _Hollows_ are giving us more excitement."

Tatsuki crossed her arms and nodded in solemn agreement. "At least you get that much. I haven't done a damn thing since we got here."

Rukia, who had met up with them on the way back, smacked Ichigo upside the head, although she had to stretch quite a bit to reach him even if he was slightly slouched. "Don't gripe. This is important! I understand your frustration, but not every enemy is going to attack you head on. Besides, weren't you the one who wanted a vacation from all the tough battles, Ichigo?"

"This _isn't_ what I had in mind," the overwhelmingly powerful teen muttered. In truth, Ichigo wanted to boldly challenge each Servant and test himself in battle. Thus far he knew he could overpower the Servants without much trouble, but he wanted to test his skill as a warrior, face down legendary weapons and people and see how he stacked up with his own skills and experiences. At the same time, he _didn't_ want this Holy Grail War to last any longer than absolutely necessary. Why couldn't these bastards all find an isolated spot to duke it out all at once?

Shortly after the group settled back into their bodies or otherwise situated themselves for the night's debriefing, Chad arrived with a dirty, battered, scowling, smelly Uryu Ishida leaning on him with one arm slung over the giant's shoulder. Orihime took one look at the Quincy and he found himself enshrouded in the warm golden glow of her healing shield.

Unbeknownst to the young archer, this also brought relief to the other occupants of the room, as it handily rejected the offensive odor of the four days worth of refuse that clung to his frame, though Uryu still felt that a shower would be apropos, for his peace of mind if nothing else. "Thank you, Inoue-san." Uryu's passive spiritual senses told him that the entire crew was present, though Tatsuki and Rider were in the kitchen and thus out of sight. Kon was attempting to peek at them from around the corner. His groan of disappointment told Uryu that Rider had already saw fit to switch to the sweater and jeans that served as her normal disguise rather than risk the mod soul getting a peek. It was rather impressive how quickly she had adapted to these things, especially if she was a former heroine from the distant past.

Once the two women joined the rest in the living area and Uryu's body and clothes were sufficiently restored, he called their attention. "As I'm sure you've all heard I had a skirmish with a Master and her Servant." Instantly, the atmosphere shifted to full alert. "The Archer class has proven quite formidable. Though I have no solid leads on his past identity, I did get a chance to draw out some of his powers for us to consider." With everyone paying rapt attention, he explained Archer's abilities and fighting style.

Skimming over the play-by-play, Uryu completed his analysis with a grimace. "I have no way of verifying this, but his abilities are eerily similar to those of a Quincy, albeit not as refined and lacking a method of high-speed movement aside from traditional foot speed. If I had to guess, I'd say he might have once been taught by a Quincy, or at least learned the nature of our fighting style and adapted it. He used a sword in a similar manner to the Seele Schnieder as his Noble Phantasm, even firing it as an explosive projectile from his bow. I can't say for sure, but it was like he literally solidified his spiritual pressure into objects that existed on the level of normal sight. They were pulled together from his energy, but manifested as solid and detailed, unlike a Quincy construct."

"That explains the damage, but how'd he catch you? Aside from Ichigo, you're the fastest of us," Rukia asked.

Though clearly uncomfortable acknowledging his defeat, Uryu didn't beat around the bush. "His final sword was designed to disrupt energy. Once he detonated it, any of the Quincy techniques I had active or stored in Ginto, including my attempt to gather the particles to use the Hirenkyaku were dissolved. Thankfully it did not take my powers, merely disrupted them."

Rider, who had moved from standing guard to sitting beside Ichigo, noticed something odd. "Did he name the weapon when he used it?"

"No. Why?"

"It wasn't _his_ Noble Phantasm, then. To draw on their full power, a Heroic Spirit must invoke the name of their weapon."

"Like using a zanpakutou…" Ichigo nodded. It made an odd sort of sense, given how the weapons were so powerful. Perhaps that's why they didn't use them in battle proudly here: doing so revealed their identities. "So in other words, Archer can use that trick without giving us any hints to who he is as long as he has the… prana to, right?"

"Most likely. It's also entirely possible that the ability to summon and use swords in that manner is a Noble Phantasm in itself. Some skills and attributes are so unusual and potent that they transcend into Noble Phantasms themselves."

Most of the Karakura crew postulated that the described weapon Archer used would only seriously hamper Uryu, though it would be able to stop a goodly chunk of their techniques just the same. If that ability was his Noble Phantasm, any weapon he drew might be tailor-made to counter their strengths. Unfortunately, checking the book the priest had given Ichigo didn't help at all; it seemed to only update with information on Servants_ Ichigo_ had encountered, regardless of how detailed secondhand data was.

"The Archer's weapons weren't the most dangerous thing about him. He was very intelligent and obviously had decades of fighting experience under his belt. His skill with both sword and bow technically exceeded mine, save in a few spiritual trick shots. I was forced to compensate with my greater speed, and he still matched me with sheer skill," Uryu summarized in conclusion.

Ichigo's frown deepened. "So he's more like Lancer then. Alright, so if I meet this guy, I'll take him out with one shot."

Uryu sighed, having expected this from his confident friend/rival. The Vizard was no doubt stronger than Archer was by a spectacular margin these days, but his confidence was dangerously close to slipping into arrogance. Ichigo had every right to be proud of his strength and his track record for solving problems that had the Soul Society practically tearing out their hair in panic, but the fact that the number of people capable of pushing him or even humbling him could be counted on two hands hadn't exactly kept him from dismissing less powerful foes. "Kurosaki, try not to underestimate them. You are stronger in terms of destructive potential, but if Archer is any indication, our enemies will rely more on skill and experience to negate our strengths."

"That's kinda why I said it: if I have to I'll take him out before he has a chance to move and pull some weird arrow on me."

The Quincy rolled his eyes. "And when have Servants simply fought fair? Archer will not likely allow himself to be caught off guard by another one of us should we cross paths again."

Ichigo released an annoyed huff. He was too experienced to disregard his cautious friend's words, but it still felt that it wasn't enough of a problem to get bent out of shape over. With nothing really to add to the strategy meeting, Ichigo waited quietly with a bored frown. His Servant, however, thought of something to ask the Quincy. "What about the Master?"

It took quite a bit of effort to keep Uryu from smacking himself for forgetting something so important, regardless of how intense the fight had been. "Right. The Master was a young girl, about our age. Black hair, blue eyes and about the same size as Arisawa-san. She also was not afraid to assist her Servant in a fighting retreat before fleeing the battlefield. I get the impression that she is more cautious than you described Berserker's Master."

Rider nodded. "That sounds more typical of magi. Many Servants are close to impossible for a magus to overcome, so retreating out of sight and offering support from safety is a logical tactic."

"Indeed," Uryu assented before the group attempted to find a way to sense the magi and Servants via their spiritual pressure. When it became apparent that their targets had all concealed themselves or were outside of range, they split up to pass some time and think up some strategies before bed.

Eventually, Tatsuki turned to the petite Soul Reaper of the group. "Hey, Rukia, how'd things go with Bazett?" she asked, sounding just a tiny bit anxious.

Taking a sip of her juice box, Rukia sighed. "Well, it's pretty obvious that McRemitz-san has already started to develop spiritual powers. Like Ichigo, she broke a low-level kido, but with even greater ease, like she knew exactly how to break the spell's hold before I even got there, as well as moved with increased speed and strength. I can only guess that she might be a magus judging by her reactions."

Obviously not satisfied yet, Tatsuki pressed on. "So, how much do you think she forgot?"

"There's no way to tell until you talk to her, though based on her resistance she likely only lost a day's worth at most. If you see her again, she'll still remember you and all of us, just without any of her former suspicion," the indigo-eyed girl explained.

Orihime and Tatsuki both looked relieved by that. "Not that I don't understand why you had to do it or anything, it's just that it bugs me; the whole memory replacement thing," the martial artist muttered somewhat guiltily.

The smaller girl offered a reassuring smile. "It's fine. I'm finding it harder to justify, myself. Still, it needs to be done for her safety if nothing else."

Over by the TV, Ichigo was flipping channels, finally settling on a rerun of an earlier baseball game while Rider sat quietly with the last of Ichigo's books, looking like she was only a few pages from the end. "I take it you liked the plays?" he asked, seeing as she had already demolished "Hamlet" and "A Midsummer Night's Dream" within the few days they had been in Fuyuki. She spent most of her free time reading while in the safety of the penthouse.

Rider simply nodded, otherwise ignorant of the world around her. Ichigo fidgeted restlessly, knowing that she didn't appreciate someone interrupting her reading, especially if she already so close to the ending. At the same time, something bothered him now that they were not hunting for trouble: the woman constantly drew an invisible line between herself and his _nakama_, and even dodged everything about her own personal tastes and interests unless it pertained to her ability to fight for him. Now he was all for privacy, but it was rather awkward to trust his friends with someone like that. During the few times she had let her guard down, he saw glimpses of an intelligent, playful woman, though never for long before she shut herself out again. It just didn't sit well with him that she kept trying to remain distant and focused on her job.

But he sure as hell wasn't about to use a Command Spell over it.

Once she finished, she placed the book on the coffee table and folded her hands on her lap. Ichigo could practically hear the gears turning in the woman's head from the famous tragedy's ending. "What'd you think?"

Rider looked up at him, a rare spark of life in her lavender eyes as she considered her answer. "Well written, but I couldn't really make out an overarching theme in this one. 'Hamlet' was a more straightforward, if a bit contrived in places. I've never really been a fan of tragedies, but I do appreciate the way that the protagonists' deaths managed to end their families' feud."

Most everyone in the room stopped and stared in shock. Normally, with the exception of her explanations about magic and Holy Grail War-related topics, Rider was rather reticent, almost aloof. Only Tatsuki had gotten a good view of her sense of humor and Ichigo was one of the few that could get her to speak more than a few sentences at a time, due to the Master/Servant thing. Hearing her talk so enthusiastically about anything was more than a little jarring.

Ichigo, however, gave a toothy smirk, pleased he finally found _someone_ to hold an intelligent conversation with on the subject. Uryu could do it if he ever deigned to do it, but he never really cared to discuss Shakespeare. "Where do you think they made their first mistake? I always thought it was rather dumb of them to never tell anyone they got married. Even a few people as witnesses would start the rumor mill and slowly spread the news or at least give them a few extra ears and eyes in both families."

"Rumors in that setting likely would have resulted in the wrong person hearing them and forcing the two apart," Rider countered. "The problem started with the recklessness of getting married without trying to see each other in public previously. Even if it was opposed, it would likely have been better to be seen courting openly first."

"Yeah maybe, but the play would have probably taken an additional act where nothing much happened."

The two's discussion evolved to include mentions of Hamlet and Ichigo giving an attentive Rider a summary of Shakespeare's works and lifetime, leaving the rest of the group to stare in abject disbelief at the pair. Even though all of them knew that Ichigo admired William Shakespeare, it was rather surreal to hear Ichigo discuss the matter so seriously while Rider offered her own counter-analysis with a thinly-veiled enthusiasm that seemed almost foreign coming from the normally stoic woman. There were several points where the Karakura crew was watching the discussion with their heads unconsciously moving like watching a ping-pong match.

When Uryu muttered that he still wanted that shower before bed and left the room, it was like a spell had been broken. One by one, the various warriors pulled themselves out of their stupor and settled back into winding down, though they did occasionally check on the pair to see if they were any closer to done. Even when the last of them, Rukia, turned out the living room light, all Ichigo did was reach over and turn on a nearby reading lamp, not missing a beat in his chat.

Ichigo and Rider finally ended up going to bed at around 2:30 in the morning.

* * *

'_That was more fun than I expected,_' Rider mused as she slipped back into her and Tatsuki's shared room and over to her bed. '_My Master is much more intellectual than he usually behaves._' Despite their similarities, the former goddess definitely didn't expect the scowling teen with such a ferocious fighting spirit to be so well-educated and interested in literature. At the same time, she chastised herself for getting caught up in the discussion. As scintillating as it was, she had completely dropped her guard. While it might be seen as paranoia, she couldn't afford to be lax. If there was ever a time to do so, it would be when the War was over, and that was with the huge caveat of her still being around by the time it did end.

She wasn't sure if she should feel nervous or just anxious as she closed her eyes. She had little doubt that she would either meet the man in black for another talk or dream of her Master's life very soon, regardless. It only occurred to her when they had returned to the hotel that she had forgotten to tell Ichigo her true name as she had originally planned amidst the chaos of shopping under the watch of the girls. Afterwards, she never got the chance to talk to Ichigo alone. While she might honestly think it a good idea to confide in her Master soon, the rest of the group, particularly Orihime and Uryu, weren't exactly willing to give her time to speak to him out of earshot.

With Uryu, the lavender-haired beauty could say that the teen was simply leery of any newcomers to the group of friends and distrustful of the unknown. As for Orihime… as the subject of many a man's desire during the early part of her former life, Rider was no stranger to jealousy, though it was odd for her to have another woman trying to stake a claim without saying anything to the target of her affections. The young lady was acting mildly jealous of her, though for the life of her Rider couldn't see why. Orihime came off as more than a little flighty at times and had apparently developed a taste for positively poisonous food combinations, but she was undeniably beautiful and kind, not to mention having a strong, gentle character.

The brunette apparently was worried that Rider was going to develop a deeper relationship with her Master. If that was the case, it probably wouldn't be best to ever reveal the most effective method of transferring prana to a Servant…

Anyway, Rider had a feeling she needed to nip this in the bud before the kind girl did something foolish.

This of course was secondary to the real issue she had: her role in the group. As far as she knew (and the rules of the Holy Grail War were practically written into her being), she as the Servant was to be the sword for her Master. Instead she found herself watching in awe as Ichigo moved and fought on the front lines as if _he_ was the Servant. In a way, it was frustrating, but at the same time she appreciated the fact that her Master was not only able, but willing to fight without an ounce of fear. The fact that Uryu was also capable of similar skill, albeit to a notably lesser degree, made the Servant wonder exactly what the teens had done to obtain such power so early in their mortal lives.

Quite frankly, it was also more than a little humbling, perhaps even disheartening. Ichigo honestly didn't really need her with him at all, even in the face of the strongest Masters and Servants.

As much as she wanted to protect Ichigo and help him in attaining his goals, he and anyone present in the group were sufficient to deal with just about every Hollow and Servant out there. For them, "purifying" the dark souls barely registered on their danger scale, only causing urgency due to the danger the monsters presented to the oblivious masses. For Rider, this left her in the rather frustrating sensation of not really being of much use in fulfilling Ichigo's goals. _'Maybe it's time to start looking into other ways of helping bring this War to an end…'_

Rider was just starting to think of ways to do just that when a pulling sensation drew her consciousness downward as if she were falling. It seemed that the man in the coat of darkness wanted to have words with her. Sure enough the air around her gained detail, color and light once more, revealing the man in shadow gripping her wrist with his coat already floating up and around to carve a ring in the red plane that separated them.

As soon as the hole was carved in the panel, the man spoke. "_Rider, I can sense that you are willing to trust Ichigo the way he is willing to trust you, but I must say again: tell him your true name soon for the sake of your partnership._"

"I will. Is there anything else? I am curious about why you continue to speak to me, though."

"_These dreams that you were seeing are Ichigo's life, sent at random to show you his character and hardships. Many of these are too personal for you to see at this time. Some you simply aren't ready for,_"the apparition stated, his voice echoing throughout the city powerfully. "_I will be your guide for now._"

"And what is it you are hiding from me?"

The black-clad warrior tightened his grip slightly, eyes narrowed in indignation._ "Without context, you will not be able to grasp the significance behind any of his memories, nor understand exactly what some of the experiences are implying in regards to the measure of power between him and his enemies." _Rider remained silent, waiting for the stubborn entity to start his choice of memories. As much as she appreciated having a guide of sorts, it really irked her that the man was restricting her in a way. A moment later, the figure closed his eyes. _"Tonight, I will show you some of what Ichigo has sacrificed as a result of taking up his sword."_

The city shifted to an image of Ichigo, still bearing his first sword as Rukia drove his soul from his body, letting the soulless thing drop, effectively dead. The spirit was literally dragged by the collar by the smaller Soul Reaper to a park where she tried to enforce the duties of a Soul Reaper on him. Ichigo's response was strangely appropriate for his character: "_I saved him because I was here! Got a problem with that?_" he had all but roared. Elaborating, he finished with _"Duty is no reason to sacrifice yourself! At least, not for me! I'm different,"_ he growled while impaling the spider-like Hollow through the mask to punctuate his statement. Those words resounded almost thunderously in Rider's mind. Duty to an authority never truly drove him at all, unlike her initial reason for accepting Ichigo as her Master.

"_At the same time, I'm not the kind of scum who leaves a debt unpaid. I'll help you with this Soul Reaper gig, at least until you're better."_ More images flashed over the pair of observers, showing Ichigo abandoning his friends and his academics as a human to chase down Hollows.

Despite this, no matter how exhausted he was, no matter how many foes he was forced to face, he always returned to his human life, as oblivious as they were to his deeds. Rider watched as Ichigo cleansed the soul of the serpentine Hollow that once had been Orihime's loving brother, allowing Rukia to replace the memories of the event in the auburn-haired girl's mind. The following day, Ichigo had slipped back into class as if nothing happened, despite the stress and the new knowledge of the girl's own pain. Slowly, the intensity of his battles heightened and his human life started to fade away, pushed back by the need to protect those same friends he fought alongside in the present. He had lost touch with most of them within a few months, his new job requiring all of his focus even as he struggled to maintain his studies, eventually having him rush over town, slaying over a dozen in rapid succession.

The more memories that played, the more faded they became, static distortions starting to interfere with her vision and hearing. Rider saw him dash through a blazing white portal that led to another world with only three people alongside him, grim determination pouring from him. Another portal appeared in a distorted mirror of the earlier scene, only two people at his back this time, the swirling darkness before them a gaping maw into an even more dangerous world. Even though she couldn't make out the exact words, she knew, deep in her bones that he was marching to war practically on his own. The second scene had him looking more alone than before, like he was isolating himself from his friends to avoid risking them.

She even saw Tatsuki punch him through a window in rage when he refused to say what was happening with his double life at one point, coldly telling her to not follow him anymore.

In a way, it was tragic. Every part of his life was forced to the side to protect people from things only he and a handful could see, and even fewer could face. He stopped having time to simply be a normal human being! How did this affect his beloved family?

For someone whose final years were a mix of loneliness and madness, it wasn't hard for Rider to see the downward spiral he was teetering precariously above. Rider was deeply appreciative that her Master's friends gained the power necessary to fight alongside her Master and offer support. Gods only know how he might have turned out without them joining him on the field or simply being there and aware of his hardships.

"_Ichigo is a man of honor and devotion. N■ ma■ter how muc■ pain he ■ndures, p■ysica■ or sp■ri■ual, he cont■nues t■ step for■ard ■ithout fe■r. He wi■■ fight the ■hole world ■or any one of h■■ n■ka■a, no matter how mu■■ of his pea■efu■ li■e he ■us■ cas■ a■ide._" The pale warrior explained, his voice fighting and failing to remain clear through the distortion that marked the end of their walk through her Master's memory for the night. Rider turned and suddenly realized that she was once more within the sideways city. "_I■ you ■rul■ wi■h t■ he■p, de■■nd tha■ w■ich he ■oul■ d■e fo■._" The man's tone was solemn; his tone carrying great weight despite the tremendous interference as the figure released her wrist.

"Wait! Who are you?" she called out as her consciousness felt the pull away from this world of memory.

The figure in black remained silent as he allowed the red barrier to close completely, cutting them off from each other once more.

As always, the world snapped back into focus, as if she had passed through a black tunnel with the hotel room on the other end. She noted that it was still a couple of hours before daybreak. Suppressing a sigh, she silently slipped out of bed and headed to the sitting room. '_What was that "guide" trying to tell me at the end?'_ she wondered while stepping out onto the balcony. '_I don't know why, but he appears genuinely concerned for Ichigo's well being.'_

She had no way of communicating with the black spirit during the day, and she had no idea if her Master knew of such an entity. Even though it claimed to be Ichigo's "partner," she had never seen it or any other familiar associated with Ichigo since her arrival. Perhaps he was a Guardian Spirit tied to his family line?

Stepping out onto the balcony, Rider opted to watch the sunrise and leaned over the railing. Watching the sky start to brighten and wash away the stars calmed her mind and let her sort through the memories more carefully. Ichigo was constantly throwing himself into battle for his friends and family, that was a given. What bothered her was the way he sacrificed his ability to have a reasonably peaceful life between battles. The enemies grew fiercer, the stakes higher and fights longer. His hometown looked to be a center of evil with all the Hollows she saw. At one point, she could see him completely surrounded by the monsters, Uryu at his back.

Just as the first sliver of the sun's light crept past the horizon, she got an idea. Ichigo needed time to live normally and while she was against him fighting Servants, she couldn't stop him from seeking a challenge. However that didn't mean he needed to do all the looking. Perhaps she could do a little scouting on her own, kill a few Hollows if she found them; just take some of the constant pressure off his shoulders. The young man would likely oppose this while he was awake due to the risk, but while he was asleep or while they were splitting up on patrol…

'_Yes, that could work. If I find a Servant, I'll eliminate them myself unless they can provide a challenge worth Ichigo's time…'_ Rider wordlessly promised to take some of her Master's burden for a little while.

* * *

_It was a vision of an altogether different kind of Hell than what Shirou had seen in his youth. Rather than the scent of ash drilling into his nose, there was the stench of blood and decay. Rather than the roar of hellfire invading his ears, there was the roar of battle, of steel and flesh rent asunder. Rather than the oppressive heat scarring his skin, there was a constant stinging of rage and human suffering attempting to consume him. Only the tortured screams of the wounded and dying were consistent with the inferno of a decade past._

_Shirou couldn't tell where he was. All he could see through the haze of war were the sparks of steel striking steel. Occasional flickers from the impacts gave shape to a figure in combat with another. He had no idea why he felt this way, but he wanted, _needed_, to know who was fighting and why they fought. Solemnly amidst the screams of the dying, he stepped into the dust cloud._

_Every step felt heavy, the weight of the pain and death around him sapping his strength while he looked for the fighter. The only things that remained distinct in this dark haze he traipsed through were the innumerable swords of the fallen. Every step revealed more blades stabbed into the earth of every possible design and size. Some were barely daggers; others taller than himself._

_Ahead, light gave the dust a faint glow._

_Stepping from the dust cloud, he encountered a monumental sight: a hill, covered in the dead, their swords everywhere, each marking a soldier's grave haphazardly. The stench of blood and death was overwhelming; many of these people must have been lying here for hours. Beyond this… hill of swords, the sun was setting swiftly, though there was still enough light to see a lone figure slumped at the top of the hill. From his position at its base, he couldn't see very well. All that stood out was the sword in its grip, and the exhausted, weary stance it had taken, as if its last strength had been completely depleted. He couldn't even tell if it was male or female. The light of the sun washed away just about every detail._

_For some reason, the vision resonated with Shirou. He could feel the figure's pain: a deep sense of betrayal, of disillusionment, of guilt at their failure. Whatever had transpired in this brutal slaughter had completely crushed the lone warrior's spirit. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Shirou almost immediately regretted it when the stale air reminiscent of a charnel house and the dusty remnants of the battle infected his lungs, triggering a violent hacking fit._

_Glancing back up, the figure hadn't moved, still indistinct against the sun. Why couldn't he see anything about it? With caution honed by years of training as a magus by his adoptive father he crept up the hill, careful to check his footing. As he got closely, he found himself confused. One time, he looked up and saw a tall man hunched over, and another, he saw a feminine figure as small as Saber or that samurai girl. Always with their head bowed, on one knee with their blade propping them up. Every time his focus shifted, the figure had switched form._

_He wanted to call out, but the air's cloying miasma of battle and death choked him whenever he tried. All he could do was ascend and keep his eyes on the figure. The hill was vast, and the sun had finally set by the time he managed to pick his way up to the crest of the battlefield, casting the hill into darkness that completely hid the defeated warrior. Still, he reached out to where the figure was slumped, the world still fading away in the deepening darkness. He placed a hand on the figure's shoulder, only to feel something off. The world had gone almost completely black, but that didn't explain why he felt rubbery flesh instead of cloth where the person's shoulder should have been._

_Shirou's eyes widened when he figure faced him. Standing in sharp relief from the world around it, a bone-white skull-like mask stared back at him through empty black eye sockets. Staggering back, he started to make out the figure's body: clawed hands of dark flesh, a hole that ate any light around it, seeming to stand out even in the darkness, almost like miniature black hole._

_The creature opened its mouth and released a long, agonized wail that had the teen stumbling back down the hill, landing hard on his back. Shirou rolled onto his stomach to run, but froze at the sight of the appearance of dozens of masked monsters all chewing on the corpses of the dead. Every mask was different. Many looked like distorted animal heads and skulls while others defied description, like something a horror film designer might envision. The monsters all turned to him in unison. Blood and saliva dripped from their maws as they started sailing towards him, swooping towards him like hawks, moaning and howling all the while._

_Panicking, Shirou fumbled around him until he felt the cold steel of a sword within reach and felt for the hilt. He tugged it from the ground and swung at the nearest apparition. The moment the blade touched the creature's mask black, inky corruption crept down it with the corrosive effect of acid until Shirou dropped it. Stumbling away, he tried to run, the numerous corpses soaking his legs in blood while the monsters swooped in all around, grasping at him with long claws and snapping their masks' jaws. He dodged left and right, fleeing even as the swords around him began to tear themselves free from the earth and shoot skyward, falling like rain all around him and the monsters, slashing his legs and causing him to fall on his stomach. All he could do was flip over before one monster, the same eyeless demon that had tried to attack him at the school, pinned him by the shoulders and roared in his face before lunging forward._

* * *

"Senpai! Senpai, wake up!" a voice cried out in obvious concern.

Shirou's eyes snapped open, and only the split-second vision of Sakura over his head, her deep purple eyes moist from worry managed to keep him from screaming and lashing out. Still, his eyes were already wide and frantic, and his body was slick with cold sweat. His breathing came in ragged gasps, his stomach clenching like it was trying to swap places with his heart. "S-Sakura…" he wheezed.

"Thank goodness…" The purple-haired girl clasped her hands demurely over her heart as she leaned back to let the terror-stricken boy sit up, her expression so filled with worry and empathy that Shirou's heart rate dropped almost guiltily just by seeing it. It really sucked knowing he had put that expression across her face. "You were having a nightmare, Senpai. You were sweating and shaking, even… screaming…"

The boy winced at that, cursing himself for scaring his little sister in all but blood. It took a moment to regain control of his breathing, but his adrenaline finally drained away and his hands slowed their uncontrolled trembling. "Thank you, Sakura… I think I'm better now. It's already fading," Shirou said tiredly with a slight smile.

He was relieved to see the worry fall away. "You're welcome, Senpai. Why don't you wash up some to relax? I'll start breakfast."

Most mornings Shirou would have put up a bit of a fight about who would cook breakfast, but he felt too drained at the moment, and a brief shower would likely do him a world of good. He smiled at her softly; completely oblivious to the effect he had on her. "…Maybe I should. Thank you, Sakura."

Sakura's spirits almost visibly shot through the roof at his words and warm smile, her cheeks turning a very slight pink. She returned his smile and nodded in a way that made her purple hair bounce cutely. "Don't take too long, Senpai or Fujimura-sensei might hunt you down," Sakura said with a playful wave of her finger.

Shirou blanched at that, imagining the overly exuberant teacher/older sister figure/little-kid-in-a-woman's-body barging in on him in the shower with a roar of hunger if she got too impatient. Well okay, she might not quite go quite _that_ far, but she'd find a new way or three to embarrass the hell out of him in front of Sakura or whoever he knew. She was positively diabolical in that regard, like the vast majority of her intellect was devoted to the task. "I'll be quick," he choked out.

Once Sakura was gone, his expression shifted. He didn't want to say anything, heck, he was still a little too shaken to do so anyway, but Sakura wasn't looking too well. It wasn't like she was hurting like when Shinji acted stupid, but she looked slightly paler than yesterday, a little less energetic. _'Perhaps she's catching a cold? Maybe I should try talking her out of attending school today.'_

Pushing that aside for a moment, Shirou crept up to the side room door. Peeking in, he noted that while his Servant was still in the futon her eyes were open. "Sorry I woke you up, Saber," he said softly.

The small woman turned her emerald eyes to him. "Are you feeling alright, Shirou?" There was no real emotion in her voice, though Shirou could swear that there was something like concern in her eyes. She was too hard to read for him to be sure, though. Her expression was a porcelain mask that gave away nothing.

"Yeah. Just a nightmare."

"I would have woken you myself, but your friend came in. I'm sorry, Master," she said.

Shirou shook his head slowly, a grateful smile on his face. "There's nothing to be sorry about. Thank you for caring."

"It is my duty. Take care of your health Master. I will be here should you need me." Saber gave him a pointed look at the last statement. She still felt it safer to accompany him to school, but ultimately relented to her Master, especially since he and Rin were allies and Rin had Archer for the short term. But if things changed, she vowed she'd be the first to strike. "Shirou."

"Yes?"

"Be careful. An enemy can appear when you least expect it."

The magus nodded. "I know. I'll leave you some food, so just save your strength."

"Thank you, Shirou. Do not hesitate to call me the moment you are in danger."

Shirou nodded again and smiled before shutting the door. After taking an invigorating shower, he headed over to the kitchen where Sakura was mixing a batter for this morning's shrimp dish. "Need any help?"

Sakura turned to her oblivious crush and started to shoo him out of the room. "No no, I'll take care of it today, Senpai! You go and relax with Fujimura-sensei and let me take care of things here," she said kindly.

"Relax with Fuji-nee? I don't think that's possible," he snarked back.

Sakura giggled even as she managed to edge him out to the dining room. With a bright smile, Taiga Fujimura gestured for him to sit down. Shirou was understandably nervous when the hyperactive woman kept quiet until after Sakura was busy with her cooking. His nervousness only increased when the woman leaned in closer to him. "Sooo, letting your precious little sister cook for you finally?" she teased quietly enough to avoid being overheard.

Shirou bit back a comment about Fuji-nee letting her "little brother" cook for her in the same manner. He settled on saying, "She gave me the Doe Eyes. I can't win against those."

"No mere mortal male can resist when she does it," Fujimura replied with a mock-solemn frown and a nod. "She is most skilled."

'_Obviously she didn't learn it from you then, Fuji-nee.'_ "Indeed she is," he said with a matching frown and nod. "A most fearsome technique in her hands."

"It certainly helps that Sakura's growing up into such a hot babe," Taiga said while maintaining her serious air, quickly glancing to her young ward from the corner of her eye.

Shirou twitched: the only sign of weakness Taiga needed.

"I wondered if you'd ever notice. Our little Sakura is growing up in all the right ways," she pressed quietly, wiping a faux tear from her eye.

Giving the woman a slight glare, Shirou still had to fight a pitched battle to keep a blush from forming on his face. He was losing. "I have no idea what you are talking about, Fuji-nee."

"Aw, there's no need to be shy! It's only natural to find her attractive."

"Fuji-nee…" Shirou hissed quietly.

"You better make a move on her soon, or someone might just steal her away," the mischievous teacher continued.

For the young magus, the worst part was not being able to respond due to Sakura returning to the table with the first dish, a plate of freshly fried shrimp in tempura batter. Seeing his chance to evade the merciless tiger that was his homeroom teacher, Shirou stood up. "Let me help you with that, Sakura," he said, barely hiding his discomfort at Fuji-nee's gaze at the back of his head as he followed the plum-haired girl back into the kitchen.

Apparently his desperation for breathing room from his teacher came through in his voice, as Sakura smiled warmly. "Thank you, Senpai. Could you take the rice?" Sakura suggested while moving the various plates around. Within minutes, the three settled down to eat.

As per the usual, Fuji-nee gobbled down as much food as she could, as fast as she could, heaping compliments on the chef between bites. "Sakura-chan, this is so _good_! I'd say you're better than Shirou at Japanese dishes now!"

The cook blushed modestly, her paler skin making it stand out even more than usual. "Oh… I don't know…"

"No need to downplay it, Sakura. This is excellent. You should be proud," Shirou praised warmly. In spite of his smile, he felt that something was missing, though not from the food.

He hoped there was some left over for Saber when they were done. She should have a chance to enjoy this, too.

* * *

Something was decidedly wrong with Ryuudou Temple, Bazett decided.

In just the last two days (wow, was it only that long?) since she had last been here, the air in the temple had taken on a disturbing pall. Just walking up the steps made her feel sick to her stomach.

The redheaded magus had woken up early this morning despite the events with Rukia Kuchiki earlier. After a shower to wake herself up and a hearty breakfast for energy, Bazett had taken a short time to gather her courage. Yesterday had stretched her spirit to its limit, and it took some doing to regain her composure. On the plus side, thanks to her resisting the memory alteration device's effect she could still get close to the Karakura group as long as she didn't let anything slip, which was actually not much of a problem for her. The issue that kept her from leaving her room for so long was the knowledge that there might be more masked spirits out there, and that they might again take an interest in her.

Before she did anything else, she needed a way to deter the spirits. For her, there were two possible answers: ask the church for a blessing (which of course was tantamount to suicide), and speaking to the priest at Ryuudou Temple for help. While unfamiliar with the effectiveness of Eastern branches of spiritual defense, Bazett's chances were better there than with that heartless bastard of a priest. Once she had left the building, she had spent the entire trip to Ryuudou Temple, both through taxi and on foot, paying special attention to the sensations from her sixth sense. Even compared to yesterday, the feelings she was getting were all clearer and more precise. Thankfully, there wasn't a solid source of the evil energy that the masked spirits had emanated. The worst she felt were a few traces along her route, lingering shadows as it were.

Of course, things looked to be going downhill since she had arrived at the foot of Mount Enzou. Her sixth sense went haywire the moment she had set foot on the steps. The entire temple reeked of malevolence. The unseen miasma seemed to leech off her spirit hungrily, growing more and more noxious to her as she ascended the long stairway to the gates, made worse by another random pulse of prana that shot out of her Magic Circuits halfway up the hill. She had largely gotten used to them, but the constant, uneven drain on her reserves was irritating to deal with. By the time she reached the top, she felt like she was on the verge of vomiting. She wouldn't have needed any training on the subject at all to recognize the pall as unnatural. The worst part was that she didn't feel a thing from the mountain until she set foot on it. That practically screamed "Boundary Field."

It didn't help Bazett's nerves that she felt that she was being watched during her entire ascent, though she couldn't see, hear, or sense anything that would make her that paranoid. With a steadying breath, the Irish magus-hunter squared her shoulders and stepped into the temple complex proper. The sickening feeling grew stronger with every step, surrounding her and making its source impossible to locate. The air felt heavy to her, though not as much so as encountering the masked beasts. Scanning the grounds, she noted that there are very few people here, and most of those are in meditation. The miasma went ignored by them, their mental stillness repelling the aura.

The magus hunter finally found someone who didn't seem overly focused on a task after a few minutes: a woman simply pulling water from the well while plainly ignoring the oppressive aura like it wasn't there. Perhaps she was simply ignorant of it, like Bazett used to be to all spiritual sensation aside from active magic. "Excuse me, miss."

The woman turned, revealing a beautiful face and pale blue hair (strange…), her outfit was a simple one-piece dress the color of an evening sky. Her sea-blue eyes widened as if startled, but she offered a gentle smile. Next to her was a small bucket filled with water freshly drawn from the well. "Oh, can I help you?"

"I'm sorry to bother you, but do you happen to know if the priest is in?" Bazett asked. She made sure to give the girl a polite Japanese bow, a custom that still felt somewhat awkward for the Westerner. She ignored the itching in her left hand in favor of the girl's reaction.

For some reason, the woman seemed to visibly relax at her query. She nodded and gestured to accompany her, keeping silent likely in respect of the monks fulfilling their spiritual duties. The woman led Bazett to the central temple, gracefully stepping up to the door and sliding it open, her voice softly calling to the back.

A moment later, a somewhat tall man clad in a priest's _kosode_ top and pants, both a charcoal grey color appeared from the study. His head was shaved completely in the manner of his fellow practitioners and his body was fit and toned with muscle. His eyes were narrow and set into an angular face that constantly smiled warmly, the kind of guy that just _looks_ like a fatherly fellow. Despite his alertness and kind expression, he looked a little under the weather with a pale cast to his skin and having traces of sweat on his brow. Still, he gave the two women a friendly bow, still smiling. He turned and coughed once before speaking. "Hello there, ladies. I'm Yoshihiro Ryuudou, head priest. What can I do for you?"

"Good morning, Ryuudou-sama. Are you alright? I could come back or ask another priest if you're not well," Bazett inquired, not wanting to set a bad precedent.

The priest shook his head calmly. "No, no. Just a light head cold. Nothing to worry about. Now tell me, what brings a young woman up here this early in the morning?"

"Well, I need some help and… well… it's hard to talk about out here," Bazett almost mumbled. Now that she was here and in front of help, it occurred to her that she might sound insane if she told the truth. While she knew that things like repelling evil spirits were supposed to be the Eastern priests' specialty, there was also the chance that he was only going to see her as hallucinating. That said she _needed_ help in this area.

The young woman who had led Bazett to the priest picked up her bucket, bowed out of the conversation politely and retreated out of sight. The moment she was no longer observed, the woman's countenance changed to a more neutral one. Though curious, Caster hadn't sensed the presence of a Servant nearby, nor much more than a vague notion of caution about the redhead, and thus dismissed her save for a note to have one of her unwitting spies watch for signs of aggression or her snooping around.

The priest's smile fell into a sympathetic frown, and he waved her in to his private study. The man had apparently been holed up here previously, as a hot cup of tea rested on the low kotatsu in the center of the room next to the pot and an additional cup with an open book before where he was seated. Yoshihiro politely offered her a cushion to kneel on across from him before slipping his legs under the table's quilts. "Tea?"

"Uh, yes thank you." Bazett quietly allowed the man to pour her cup and settle back in before speaking. "Ryuudou-sama, my name is Bazett Fraga McRemitz. I wanted to ask for a little spiritual help or guidance. I mean it's… well… do you believe in ghosts?" Bazett finally managed to say.

The priest's expression softened in instant understanding. "Yes."

The frank admission startled the woman very slightly but she hid it well. "I don't think I'm haunted or possessed, but there are these… things that came after me the other day. A spirit attacked me."

Yoshihiro lifted an eyebrow. "McRemitz-san, please understand that I'm not an Onmyouji; I don't exactly have the skills to deal with spirits directly. Those traditions died out with my great-grandfather. I fear that in a few more generations, the very knowledge of spirits beyond lip service may die out as well."

Bazett's heart sank, but she bowed to the priest. "I see. I'm sorry to bother you then."

"Now now, McRemitz-san, I may not be able to exorcise spirits or seal demons, but I assure you I can offer some guidance and perhaps a protective token from the old days," Yoshihiro said abruptly. "While he never taught me the old ways, my grandfather passed down some lore from his father that speaks of various spirits. Stories of things like the traditional _kitsune_ and the _kappa_, and more exotic things like the _okuri-inu_, the _tsukumogami_ and the _noh-men_."

Most of the references sailed over Bazett's head, but the Japanese word for "mask" did not. "_Noh-men_?"

Taking a moment to cough and clear his throat and taking a sip of tea, the man nodded. "Stories are passed down through this temple's priests of monsters of a thousand shapes each hungering for the spirits of humans, alive or dead. The only things they had in common with each other are masks, each carved from bone and unique to the individual. That's why they are called _noh-men_ (noh-masks), after the masked plays." Bazett remained silent, riveted to the priest's words as he stood up a little shakily and pulled a box from the lowermost shelf of his bookcase. "Supposedly, the demons attack priests and any who can see them for the shame their form and hunger for souls brings them. The story goes that anyone with spiritual power can fight against them and that the _noh-men_ were driven into hiding by the various priests. Other cultures also contributed, including the arrival of the Westerners, who also brought their own spiritual defenders with them."

Bazett nodded. She had no doubt that the monster that attacked her and transformed Daisuke was one of these demons. Sipping her tea, she mulled over the last bit; likely the Holy Church's exorcists were the spiritual defenders he mentioned, but what about the shooter of the cross-shaped blue bolt? It looked like a technique they might use, but it wasn't quite the same. Her thoughts paused as the priest opened the box and handed her a small _omamori_ charm, the tiny sealed bag colored white with a pale blue frame. "What's this?"

"One of the remaining protective charms made by the monks during my great-grandfather's days. If you like, you may take it. I can see in your eyes that you desperately want a little protection."

Bazett examined the thing, feeling the weight in her palm. She normally would have simply turned the thing down for its historical value but it felt warm in her hands for some reason, her sixth sense letting her feel the small but bright aura surrounding it. It might actually have some use. "Are you sure? I mean, if it's from back then wouldn't it be better-"

Her voice died when Yoshihiro turned the box around with a wry smile to reveal no less than ten more of the charms. "My great-grandfather apparently knew his arts weren't going to be passed on, so he and his followers made many of these. He asked my grandfather that these be passed to people in need whenever one wanted spiritual protection. Take good care of it."

Bazett looked back at the charm in her palm and tucked into the inside of her suit jacket. "Thank you Ryuudou-sama; this really means more than you can imagine." Already, the warmth of the _omamori_ was starting to drive back the sickly feeling surrounding her. Suddenly the number of times these things were in stores as souvenirs made much more sense considering the _real_ ones actually _worked_.

The Irish redhead left the temple with notably more vigor than she arrived with. She could still feel the oppressive aura from the grounds, but now she felt detached from it; rather than standing in the middle of a toxic cloud, she was, for lack of a better term, smelling it from a safe distance. It was like she was in a protective bubble, actually.

With no idea of how long the charm's protection would last, Bazett immediately switched gears while flagging down a taxi. _'If I hurry, I might be able to get to that coffee shop before Tatsuki passes it, assuming she's out jogging again.'_

_

* * *

_

The moment Shirou stepped onto campus, his chest clenched involuntary. Something was… calling out or shining like a beacon. It wasn't something he could pick up with any of the five normal senses, but his newfound spiritual attunement felt a kind of pressure emanating from the school building. Well, not necessarily from the building _per se_, but somewhere near the center of the grounds. It was too hard to pinpoint, though. As if that wasn't enough to derail the normalcy of the day, next to him was the school's most desirable girl, the model student mask of Rin Tohsaka. She had patiently waited for him at the gate, Archer's translucent form staring coolly at him from over her shoulder. While this on its own wouldn't affect his day, the fact that she greeted him with one of her "friendly" smiles was certainly new. "Good morning, Shirou-kun."

"Ah, good morning, Tohsaka," he replied, inclining his head with just the barest flicker of his gaze to Archer, who had the slightest twitch in his brow. Being not-so-invisible must still throw him off his game. Without a further word, the two Masters and one Servant walked into the building. Once they had switched to their indoor shoes, his ally gestured to a quiet spot at the edge of the hall.

"We need to talk. Something's come up. I'll meet you on the roof at lunch. For the sake of our reputations, don't come find me in the halls again. We'll just 'happen' to meet up," she told him. Slightly louder, she added, "And thanks for your help yesterday."

For a second, Shirou didn't realize what she meant considering _she_ was the one to help _him_ with all of his training. Then the situation hit him. He _did_ kind of drag her off in the middle of a crowded hallway yesterday. _That_ little stunt would have sent the rumor mill into a frenzy. Damage control was needed before anyone got any funny ideas, like spying on them. Even if Rin had the right spells to deal with the memories of the people around her, not that he was sure of that, the possibility of someone stumbling upon their double-life was too much of a risk. "Y-yeah, anytime."

The two parted ways there, though Shirou could feel the gaze of many furiously jealous eyes upon him. He gulped. It was going to be a long day…

It turned out the first half of the day passed in a bit of a blur. Classes went smoothly, though he had an understandably tough time staying focused. Shirou's lunch period promised to be more interesting, and he spent a few minutes chatting with Issei about some minor maintenance he wanted done soon for the art clubroom. Afterwards, he went up to the roof for lunch, making sure to grab a can of coffee for Tohsaka, just in case she thought he took too long. A peace offering was never a bad idea when dealing with magi who could kick your ass up and down the street. With a decidedly relaxed, "I'm an average guy" stride, he walked up to the roof exit.

Shirou's first sight on opening the door was startling. Rin was standing at the edge of what looked like a thin ring of pulsing blue light in the center of the roof. She was gazing at the ring thoughtfully, but didn't appear to notice the thing within it. About three feet off the ground was a pulsing, faintly visible orb about the size of his head that resembled water surrounding a tiny mote of light. On top of that, the pressure that had accosted him upon entering the campus returned with a vengeance, emanating from the ball in a constant gale. It was unbelievably strange, and from the looks of things, it was another spiritual phenomenon only he and the Heroic Spirits could perceive. "Tohsaka, what is that?"

She turned to him, her crystal eyes totally serious to the point of giving her gaze a piercing quality. "I don't know, but it wasn't here yesterday and both those points bother me. It's some kind of small, layered Boundary Field, but I can't tell what it does, exactly."

"Has Archer told you about the center of it?"

"Yeah: some weird watery orb. Anything else?"

"Well, I don't know what it means, but it's like there's a constant wind from it, like it's pushing on me. You feel it?"

"…No… Archer, what about you?" Rin looked irked by yet another ability displayed by her partner that she lacked, even if its usefulness wasn't readily apparent.

Quickly channeling minute amounts of prana into his ears, Shirou managed to catch the red knight's response this time. "A little," he admitted. "My defenses are countering it, but I can still barely pick up on it," he said coolly after a moment of thought.

"What do you know so far?" Shirou asked as he approached the ring.

Rin brought her knuckles to her mouth, her elbow resting in her other hand. "The first layer is apparently meant to keep cycling energy, likely from the orb in the center, to prevent it from dissipating. There are at least two more layers, but they're inactive right now. All I can tell is that it's supposed to seal whatever is in the circle once something enters. The tricky part is that it doesn't just trigger for anything: it's designed for a specific target. I can't figure it out right now."

"Can you break it?"

"Not during school. It's too powerful and looks like it's been worked into the concrete somehow. Only way to break it right now would be to practically flip the roof."

Shirou briefly wondered how that would look to some poor civilian wandering in front of the school gate. He chuckled weakly. "Yeeaaah… let's not. We'll need to come back later, right?"

"Right," Rin acknowledged before stepping warily back from the circle. "However, this isn't the reason I called you up this morning."

"It's not?"

"No. Sit down," she invited, her voice still largely toneless as she placed herself on the small bench next to the door. Once Shirou was seated and had handed her the warmed can of coffee, Rin stated without preamble, "I was attacked last night."

While it was a bit of a stupid question to ask if she was okay given that she was here with Archer, he did still snap his eyes to her in worry. "What happened?"

Rin looked skyward for a moment while picking at her lunch. "In hindsight, maybe 'attacked' is the wrong word. Whoever or whatever he was, he wasn't a Servant or a Master, but he knew about the Holy Grail War and could see Archer in the same way you can. He did dress like a Servant though, clad in all-white in a style like a chevalier."

"What did he want?"

"He asked me what I wanted the Grail for. The fact that he knew about it means that he's likely working with a Master as support. When I asked Archer to restrain him…"

Archer turned his head with a scowl in place. "He fought a lot like I did. Different style, but he used similar weapons and tactics with a greater focus on speed at the cost of strength. The worst part was that he managed to get away. I hate the ones that get away."

"So, he was like a false Archer-class? For that matter, why can't he be a second Archer?"

"You know, that's not a bad analogy. Anyway, the Command Mantra reacts to Servants within range, and if the Assassin tried to conceal his presence, it would have still reacted the moment he revealed himself. Neither happened. Also, the fake priest told me that there was to be only one of each of the classes this time around," the more experienced of the two magi replied patiently.

"I remember you saying that. How does he know, anyway?" Shirou asked.

With a sigh, Rin gave him a level, slightly irritated look. "It's part of his job as mediator. The Grail grants him that much knowledge."

"But what if he's wrong or if someone's found a way to cheat?"

"Idiot. The Grail wouldn't allow that to happen. Even if it was possible, and it's NOT, the Command Mantra reacts to any Heroic Spirit, regardless of if they have a Master or not. That guy was _not_ a Servant." Rin's conviction in her belief killed any further argument from her fellow magus.

The redhead doubted this was the end of things on the subject. Even if what she said was true, he and Rin still had no idea what they were dealing with, which actually presented a more dangerous problem. If they found their assailant's true identity, it still might not do a thing to reveal any weaknesses. Shirou had this sinking feeling that things were only going to get worse the longer the Holy Grail War lasted. "Where do we go from here?"

When Rin gave him a slight smile, a cold, grave chill slithered up the amateur magus's spine in portent. She wasn't even being malicious and she _still_ terrified him! "After I have dinner I'll drop by your house and we can start planning a strategy in earnest. As much as I'd like to handle this on my own, it's starting to get ridiculous, so we'll need to start coordinating more actively both on and off the battlefield."

"Okay. My friends will be out of the house around 8:30. Don't worry; it's just Sakura and Fuji-nee. They aren't involved and I'd like to keep it that way."

Rin nodded in understanding. "If that's the case, you'll need to convince them to stay out of your house at least until the War is over."

Though distinctly uncomfortable with that, Shirou knew that it would be far safer for the women who cared for him. The big question of course was how. _"Fuji-nee, Sakura, I'm sorry to say that I'm involved in a life or death struggle with revived legendary heroes being used as weapons, and my enemies might kill you if you see any of it or they find out you mean the world to me so I need you both to stay out of the house for a while. Oh, and it's the same kind of battle that burned down Fuyuki ten years ago, so watch out and I'll see you when it's over."_ Yeah… _That_ sounded sane. Still, he couldn't expect them to be left alone simply because they didn't know about the Holy Grail War if the "gas leaks" were any indication. Add to that the new enemy Tohsaka encountered, and who knows the number of people endangered just by being near them?

"I'll try. It might take time for them to get the hint, but I'll try."

Realistically, Rin knew that was the best she could hope for from the perpetual nice guy that was her partner. He lacked the ruthlessness needed to be a particularly potent magus, but it did make him a less suspicious character to suspect as one. Hell, if she didn't face Saber that fateful night, Rin doubted she'd ever believe the guy capable of being a Master at all. "Fine, just don't let them get caught in this mess, no matter what."

Most of the lunch break after that was pretty quiet, with Archer vigilantly watching the Boundary Field's swirling core for any sign of potential trouble, while his other senses kept tabs on their surroundings. Rin left a few minutes before the bell, while Shirou stayed for a few minutes longer, his thoughts turned once more to the odd magic circle in the middle of the roof. The pressure against him never really vanished, but he had quickly adapted to it, settling for ignoring it while it didn't cause any serious harm.

On his way back to class a few minutes later, he noted that Shinji Matou was waiting outside the door to the classroom, his face set into that easy (everyone else would describe it as disgustingly smug) smile of his. "Yo, Emiya!"

"Hey, Shinji. What's up?"

"Life's pretty good, all told. However, things have been a little… dangerous as of late, wouldn't you agree?"

"You mean the gas leaks and accidents? Yeah, it's getting scary leaving the house in the morning."

With a slight snicker, Shinji opened the door behind him and headed for his desk, Shirou a step behind. "I know what you mean." Just as they were about to split for their own seats, Shinji's face became uncharacteristically serious and solemn. "After school, Emiya, there's something I need to talk to you about. It's important." The way he said it actually startled Shirou, who turned back to his friend and met his dark blue eyes.

Seeing nothing more than a genuine seriousness, he nodded. "Alright. After school." Shinji's half-smile returned and he relaxed into his seat at that. The red-haired magus took his own seat, feeling distinctly uneasy about things going on out there in the shadows but with a solidified resolve to prevent any more suffering. While he honestly tried to remain focused on class for the moment, the constant sensation of being bombarded by an invisible force was rather distracting especially since he was now aware of its source.

In spite of everything he had swimming around his head so far, Shirou knew it would still be a long day yet and the night even longer.


	13. Team Dynamics: Part II

A/N: Holy hell, it's been a while, hasn't it? This chapter was a nightmare for me to finish for some reason. Well, either way I'm extremely happy everyone's enjoying this story. This chapter is largely Fate-centric, but the plot takes a jump forward, so keep watch!

Again, thank you all for reading this story, and thanks to all of you who sent me ideas, and feel free to PM me with more!

Lastly, don't forget to vote in the poll on my profile. Enjoy!

_Team Dynamics: Part II_

By the time Bazett made it to the quaint little coffee shop on the main commercial street and had a latte in hand, she spotted a familiar spiky mess of black hair jauntily approaching from up the road. Taking care to look a little distracted, Bazett waited for the jogging girl to approach before "jerking from her reverie." The sudden motion from the otherwise still coffee shop immediately drew Tatsuki's attention, and Bazett gave her a casual wave. _'Contact established,'_ she mentally remarked when Tatsuki changed course towards her.

"Hey, Bazett-san!" the ebon-haired girl called brightly.

The Irishwoman smiled back with a wave. It was pleasant to talk to the athletic teen again, especially when compared to Rukia the previous night. "Good morning, Arisawa-san. How's the project coming?"

Tatsuki hesitated for a second before sheepishly scratching her head. "Er, pretty good… Rosaline-sensei's tough, but she's fair. Problem is I can't sit still for long before I have to get up and do something."

"I know what you mean," Bazett replied with a half-smile. "Still, I can say from personal experience that procrastination never really ends well."

"I know, I know, but it's frustrating to be in a new city and not being able to enjoy it!" the black-haired tomboy groused while plopping into the chair across from the magus hunter.

Bazett could only chuckle despite her mind remaining mostly focused on her self-imposed mission. Tatsuki was a very open girl, and very easy to connect with. Done right, sneaking information out of her wouldn't take much effort. Unfortunately, the redhead had no real clue where to begin. Her original plan sounded easy enough, but the simplest part here was also the hardest for her.

Here she was, a fully trained magus hunter with a practically perfect mission record carrying a bloodline that could kill even a Servant instantly, and she couldn't hold a normal conversation with a teenage girl! It was somewhat understandable; Tatsuki never really had given her much to work with as far as her hobbies and normal conversation topics went.

Tatsuki's voice dragged her out of her frustrating mental tangent. "Hey, you okay? You zoned out a bit."

Lying tended to come easy to magi due to their lifestyles, and Bazett was no exception. "Just thinking. I'm not entirely sure what all to do with my free time here in town. If I could, I'd like to find a gym or something to keep my martial arts in good form, but…"

Something almost lit up in Tatsuki's eyes at that. "You practice martial arts? What school?" she asked excitedly.

"That's right: you practice karate, don't you?" Bazett felt a mild bit of relief that she had something to keep the conversation going and a chance to steer it towards her goals. "I mainly do mixed martial arts with emphasis on boxing and kickboxing."

"Cool! You know, one of my dreams was to learn Vale Tudo and become the national champion."

"Really? What about now?"

"I kinda want to make my own school. I might still try for the championship, but I'm starting to learn a new style aside from karate. My current _shishou_ is really inspiring that way."

"A new school of martial arts? Sounds difficult."

"Not as much as you might think. I'm starting to develop a new martial art based on my _shishou_'s style and philosophy mixed with my karate. She's taken me in as a student, but she's something else in how she teaches." Tatsuki winced very slightly at what most likely were phantom pains. The magus gathered that to get a reaction like that, the girl's teacher must use a "school of hard knocks" teaching style. If so, Tatsuki was going to either become very strong or break.

"So what's she teaching you?"

"She calls it Hakuda."

"…I don't think I've heard of that." In truth, the concept was quite old, a philosophy of fighting without carrying any negative thoughts or intentions; a method of defense developed by Chinese monks that eventually lost its meaning when it was imported to other nations and was the ancestor of modern Jujutsu.

Bazett was familiar with the lost art only through learning that the oldest monks of this discipline were sealed by the Mages' Association several centuries ago for mastering the mysteries of "Walking and Breathing," techniques that generated constant prana and allowed the user to control it with little to no exertion, albeit with less versatility than magic. Very few ever learned or could even understand these techniques, leading those gifted few who proved naturally adept at them to being viewed as prodigies or even living saints that were hidden away and their actions carefully monitored by their communities, the Church, or the Association.

She'd have to keep a close eye on if those secrets were being passed on without the Association's knowledge.

"Can't say I'm surprised. Never heard of it myself 'til I met _shishou_," Tatsuki chuckled, casually leaning on her hand. After a moment of thought, the girl smiled widely. "I've got an idea; why don't we look for a gym or something? If nothing else we can use a park. I'm thinking we can spar for a bit just to get the blood moving."

The offer had Bazett raising an eyebrow, which apparently didn't go unnoticed by the young martial artist. "I mean, we can go and get some different clothes for it and I'm sure if we look we can rent some gear if that's a problem. What do you say?" she amended.

"Are you sure? Won't your classmates and teacher be worried if you come back after something like that?"

Tatsuki waved her concerns off easily enough. "No worries, no worries. I'll let them know. I don't mind if you don't want to, though. Frankly I figured you'd refuse flat out by now."

"No, I'm actually really interested in what you can do. It's just a bit sudden and a bit of an unusual suggestion. Then again, I'm afraid I might be getting a little rusty… Ah what the hell. Let's give it a try."

"Sweet!"

Within thirty minutes, the magus hunter was quietly cursing under her breath as she dug through her suitcase and finding nothing but copies of her dark burgundy suit, white shirts and ties. While fine for what she intended to be a short stint in town as a magus hunter/Master, they were certainly unsuitable for something like a simple spar with a teenager. Tatsuki was waiting in the lobby at Bazett's insistence: her room was still a horrendous mess from last night. Her early morning routine combined with visiting the temple ate away any time she might have had to clean up.

"Of course you wouldn't need any workout clothes, Bazett," she grumbled sarcastically to herself while rooting through her bag for anything she could cobble together. "You were going to get plenty of exercise fighting for your life against the Masters and Servants. No way were you going to need to take a track suit or anything. Nope."

With a resigned growl of "screw it," Bazett grabbed a pair of her dark pants and another white shirt and called it good. They worked well enough for this, and it wasn't like she was in any danger of ruining her outfit since she could simply use magecraft on them later.

When Bazett came back with her change of clothes, Tatsuki was at the main desk and taking a piece of paper from the receptionist and bowing slightly. Turning to the taller woman, she held up the sheet with a half-smile. "Found a gym with a space that'll work. Since we're only going in for a bit, we won't need a full membership," she explained.

"Let's get going, then."

The women passed their walk with light chat, Bazett starting to piece together some of Tatsuki's history with the other teens. From the sound of it, Ichigo and Chad came from normal families, albeit Ichigo's father sounded _strange_. Orihime apparently lived alone, and Tatsuki tactfully evaded having to answer about the auburn-haired girl's private issues.

Ichigo's status as Tatsuki's oldest friend actually surprised Bazett. She had felt some form of raw energy coming from the fire-haired teen when they had met the other day; she could have sworn he was a magus, which would imply a more reclusive upbringing. If they knew each other for so long, the boy was either oblivious to his own potential or was a masterful actor. The idea of Tatsuki knowing something about it crossed her mind, but it was hard to think that the girl had much practice at hiding big secrets, and she had no real tells about what she was saying.

Of course, Tatsuki wasn't lying at all; she was just conveniently leaving a few details out.

Bazett probed a little for information on Rukia, and found that she was the newest part of her little circle of friends. The tiny girl apparently arrived in Karakura less than a year ago and inserted herself into the group through Ichigo.

That boy oddly seemed like the center of just about everything involving those kids, whether he knew anything supernatural or not.

Lastly, their teacher was practically an unknown, apparently newly transferred into their high school less than a week before they met Bazett. If that didn't scream "suspicious" during the Holy Grail War, nothing did.

Based on all this, Bazett had a sneaking suspicion that Rosaline wasn't a simple teacher, perhaps not even a human. Hell, with her peculiar hair color and this gut feeling (a sense that she had come to trust in her line of work), she might be a Servant. If so, Rukia was most likely the Master. The rest of the group seemed too… normal save for all being very close, almost like a second family. Everyone Tatsuki mentioned, save Rosaline, was spoken of with a certain fondness that only just hinted at how deep their bonds ran.

By the time all of this was explained, the two of them had arrived at the gym and signed in for a two-hour session in one of their enclosed training rooms, largely used for solitary meditation or yoga classes. Tatsuki was understandably surprised when instead of changing into different clothes Bazett simply shrugged off her coat and took off her tie and starting to limber up. "Let me guess: you didn't have any good workout clothes?" Tatsuki gave a smirk while she pulled the sleeves of her pure white _gi_ on.

Bazett returned the smile with a slightly embarrassed one of her own. "Got it in one." For safety, Bazett rented some of the gym's training equipment, namely headgear, gloves and foot guards for the both of them. Though beat-up and obviously past their prime, they fit and would do their jobs for this little spar.

"You ready?" Tatsuki called before lowering herself into a very loose, simple stance. Her body was balanced on the balls of her feet and her knees were bent slightly with her left shoulder facing Bazett while her left hand was up, palm out. The other hand was held up next to her head with the fist clenched.

Bazett didn't reply immediately, simply lifting her arms before her and widening her legs in a slightly wider variant of a traditional boxer's stance. "What are the terms? Obviously nothing too damaging, but when do we stop?"

"Whenever one of us decides to call it quits? I'm really just in it to have fun," the raven-haired girl suggested.

With a slight shrug, Bazett narrowed her eyes and focused her attention entirely on Tatsuki as she might for a real battle. "I suppose that'll work. Let's begin."

Tatsuki smirked slightly and abruptly shot forward, tucking her body low and pivoting on her foot to sweep Bazett's feet. The magus hunter didn't even blink, though she had to acknowledge that the smaller girl was very fast for a normal human.

Now it should be pointed out that, while sparring fit well with Bazett's training, the last time she really had gone at it with another person without fighting for her life was well over a year ago. More importantly, her opponents were usually magi, who often enhanced their strength to superhuman levels or at least carried weapons and curses to make fist fighting risky. As such, Bazett's reflexes were honed to react in the best way to keep her out of reach until an opening appeared.

Rather than jump over the sweeping leg, Bazett slipped back for a split second and stepped back in as the leg arced past her. Tatsuki didn't let up though, her fist coming up with all of the momentum afforded by her pivoting body in a surprisingly aggressive left hook. Again, Bazett evaded smoothly rather than block and let the fist swipe pointlessly under her chin.

Tatsuki switched her dodged punch into a backhand blow and followed up with a snap kick. Every move was carefully evaded, though Tatsuki seemed to get agitated by Bazett's apparent non-aggression. Her attacks got more aggressive and faster, attempting to force the redhead into actually putting up a fight. "You're very good, Arisawa-san. Have you ever considered doing formal competitions?"

"Second strongest girl in Japan in karate, and only because I broke my arm before the finals!" Tatsuki grinned while bringing her leg down in an axe-kick. Bazett side-stepped the attack but only just pushed away the girl's fierce follow-up punch.

With a smile of approval, Bazett finally attacked; her body spinning away from Tatsuki's punch to clip the surprised teenager along the cheek of her headgear with an outstretched fist. Bazett was actually mildly impressed. Despite attacking during an opening, Tatsuki's reflexes were remarkable to react in time. The teenage martial artist's grin got wider at the fact that Bazett finally saw fit to hit back.

For Bazett, she nearly left herself open at the sudden change in the atmosphere. For the first attacks, everything was normal for the most part, though the longer the spar went on and the more irritated Tatsuki got, the more charged the air felt. Centered on Tatsuki was this increasingly violent corona of unseen energy like a gathering storm system.

The moment Bazett launched her counterattack, the building fury dissolved into a less dangerous-feeling field. _'Am I… indirectly feeling her emotions?'_ she wondered when the shift in pressure drew her attention; Tatsuki was on the attack again even faster than before.

Bazett's expression hardened and she started probing Tatsuki's defenses with a few light and fast punches. She found that her smaller opponent was extremely agile, though the sudden shift from being on the offense threw her off, giving the taller woman a chance to start increasing the pressure.

The sensation of pressure coming from Tatsuki intensified, and she found that with it, Tatsuki pushed herself to move faster and hit harder, but Bazett didn't give her the chance to make much use of it; the first punch was caught and she used her greater size for leverage to throw her opponent over her shoulder.

She was officially stunned when Tatsuki brought her legs under her body and slammed her feet down on the mat instead of landing flat on her back, arresting her momentum and letting her duck forward to regain her balance. "Ow…" the younger girl muttered, a little shaky from her slightly awkward landing. "Nice throw! I got too into attacking and left myself wide open, didn't I?"

Smiling at the girl's enthusiasm, Bazett shook her head. "You have really good form but I've been doing this for a lot longer than you have, so I found a small gap, not a huge one."

Tatsuki simply chuckled. "I'm pretty sure my _shishou_ would have found five or six in the last three seconds…" She grimaced. "…and probably would've exploited half of them to prove it before walking me through the proper technique."

Bazett rose an eyebrow, visibly taken aback. "Your instructor sounds very… harsh."

"She's a firm believer in the 'soft and hard' teaching method. She's really nice and understanding when she's showing me how to do things, but when it comes to sparring, application and conditioning, she's _evil_."

"I'll try not to bring up too many painful memories," Bazett replied with a chuckle, starting her next attack in a flurry of punches that Tatsuki dodged and parried artfully. Her style obviously took elements from more acrobatic martial arts like wushu or kung fu. She moved lightly on her feet and used a rather innovative mix of circular motions to defend while making sudden, sharp attacks.

Unfortunately, Bazett had the advantage of years of combat under her belt. Even though the technique was completely new, there were several small openings that shattered Tatsuki's momentum and left her open to several takedowns and throws.

That's not to say Tatsuki was a pushover. The girl definitely wanted to put her training to work, attacking and defending in ways that came from all over the world's martial arts, many of which Bazett didn't recognize. This new style she was learning kept Bazett on her toes, the sheer ferocity behind it almost disturbing coming from someone so young. Still, after the sixth takedown and stopping her fist an inch from Tatsuki's nose, she finally raised the white flag.

"Alright, alright! I know when I'm beaten!" Tatsuki sighed, panting with a grin. "Thanks for the spar. I needed it."

Bazett nodded and helped the exhausted girl to her feet. The older woman carefully measured her breathing and regained her strength quickly while Tatsuki did the same. Bazett paused, her new senses alerting her to the calming and receding energy surrounding her sparring partner until it faded to the very edges of her ability to sense. "Thank you, Arisawa-san. I had more fun than I expected."

"Just call me Tatsuki." While they took off their rented gear and headed for the locker room, Tatsuki's face lit up with inspiration. "We oughta do this more often while we're here! You said you needed something to do, and this was a blast," she exclaimed.

Bazett had to admit Tatsuki was right about that. The chance to unwind some of the accumulating stress and do something… reasonably normal worked wonders for her mood. Plus, it was a perfect opportunity to weasel information out of the Tatsuki about her friends. "I'd like that. Does every other day here work for you?"

"That sounds great! Next time I'll bring Orihime along to watch, too," Tatsuki replied with a grin.

After their showers and changing, the two young women parted ways, one heading back to one of the ritziest –if not _the_ ritziest- hotel in Fuyuki City, the other heading back into the streets to hunt for information. Still, after yesterday's string of disasters today carried a hell of a reversal of fortune.

She needed to find some way of using her new senses to track down the Masters. Even if she wasn't a participant anymore, she felt obligated to keep tabs on the field and protect the innocent masses until she could deal with whatever was going on behind the scenes. It wasn't like she could trust the mediator to do his job in that area.

* * *

Once classes ended for the day, Shirou made a point to appear mildly busy with last-minute notations for class. It wasn't uncommon for him to stick around after school anyway, helping the student council president with random repair jobs and other odds and ends. He didn't bother checking to see if Shinji was waiting for him. He only turned to his estranged friend once the last of the class left the room.

"Emiya, are you going to meet anyone anytime soon?" Shinji asked carefully, eyeing the door suspiciously.

"Er, no, not until I get home and eat dinner with Fuji-nee." Now that he had the time to look, Shirou was surprised at how shaken the normally proud and short-tempered teen appeared. Though largely normal at first glance, his eyes betrayed his nervousness and he looked like he hadn't gotten much sleep recently. Seeing him so off from the norm was rather jarring. "Shinji? Are you alright?"

The boy's trademark smirk came out looking decidedly forced. "No, not really," he said steadily, taking a moment to gather himself. "I see you found the little addition to the school on the roof." Shirou's eyes widened before Shinji held up a hand. "That's right, Emiya. I'm a Master, just like you. Before you get bent out of shape over it, let me explain.

"My Servant's powerful, but untamable. I can't count on him that much unless a Servant attacks him directly. When he told me about the magic circle, he didn't care to do anything about it, or probably couldn't."

The way Shinji talked about his Servant didn't make much sense. He spoke like the Heroic Spirit was a feral beast rather than a mighty paragon of humanity. Perhaps his relationship with the Servant was similar to his initial impression of Saber, but Shinji had yet to find common ground. "So why tell me? More importantly, where did you find out I was a Master?"

"My Servant has keen eyes. He spotted you meeting up with Tohsaka after school the other day heading towards your house which made it pretty obvious. He didn't see fit to tell me though until I asked about any potential allies." Following that, Shinji gave a brief history of his lineage; his family apparently immigrated to Fuyuki; the Matou line had a long history of magic, but their blood had thinned upon settling here to the point that their ability to use magic had effectively died out. They had retained their lore and training, but even though they knew how things _should_ work, the Matou family including Shinji couldn't get magic _to_ work. Unfortunately, the Holy Grail didn't seem to care about that little detail and dragged the blue-haired boy into the battle, sealing the deal by bestowing a Servant.

He added that Sakura was being kept in the dark about her family's magic traditions since Shinji was the heir to the family, much to Shirou's relief.

Shirou wanted to trust his friend's intentions, but… even if he wanted to there was still the matter of Shinji's own Servant and Saber's response. Worse, what would _Rin_ do? "I see. What all did you have in mind?"

"An alliance, obviously. I'm not a real magus, but you are." The idea of being considered good enough to be called _that_ almost made Shirou laugh right there. "Plus, I know you: I bet you don't like the idea of some crazy magus running around causing havoc. Lastly, you're probably exactly like me, dragged into this against your will, right?"

"Uh… yeah," was all Shirou managed to get out.

"So both of us are at the same disadvantage; we should stick together. It helps that we know each other, so it'll be more natural to watch each other's backs. Especially against Tohsaka." Shinji's smirk dissolved. "I don't know what she might be telling you, but if you ask me, she's bad news. If you've spent any time with her, you should know she's the type that won't hesitate to fight other Masters. For some reason she lets her guard down around you; a perfect opportunity!"

"…Maybe, but I have one more question before I make my decision. You obviously know something about that Boundary Field up there. Was it your Servant who put it up?"

"No. That was someone else here. My Servant's not that… subtle," he grimaced at some rather pointed memory.

Setting that aside, Shirou narrowed his eyes in confusion. "But if that's the case, who could it be? There's a good chance that the Master who made it is at school."

"If he or she is here, you'd be able to _sense_ it, Emiya. I don't have a Magic Circuit remember? I can't be sensed in the first place with that method, but a normal magus could." His explanation mollified Shirou, but it did mean he'd need to tell Rin right away.

"Thanks for the warning, Shinji. For now though, I can't cooperate against Tohsaka. She hasn't done anything yet, but I trust her for now."

The blue-eyed teen clucked his tongue and glanced out the window into the courtyard. Something out there seemed to suck all of the blood out of his body, his skin paling to almost chalk white. "Crap. I'll warn you right now Emiya that if you wait for something to happen, it'll probably be too late. If I can't convince you now, I'll wait, but I can't say my Servant will."

That sounded rather ominous.

"Seriously Emiya, be careful out there. As a friend, I'll give you one last bit of info: there is a Master holing up in Ryuudou Temple."

"What?" Shirou hissed, barely having the presence of mind to restrain a roar of horror.

"I can't stick around any longer to explain anything else, but apparently it's a witch that feeds on souls all over town, so if it sits for too long it'll be unstoppable." Before Shirou could ask any specifics, Shinji scooped up his bag and headed out the door at a quick jog.

Turning to the courtyard in confusion, Shirou's heart pretty much stopped. Out near the front gate, a pair of red eyes met his, the almost unholy orbs set in a handsome blond foreigner's face clad in a black coat and matching pants and a white shirt. The man had his hands in his pockets and looked non-threatening. Around him, several groups of students gossiped and meandered off, oblivious to just how overwhelmingly dangerous the man had to be to induce such a reaction.

A few clusters of girls were even blushing in his presence, and when the man smiled the girls almost swooned.

As a rule, looks are terrifyingly deceptive things to magi. To Shirou the seemingly harmless, relaxed man in black and white filled him with a raw fear that ruthlessly clawed at his insides, the man's outwardly casual gaze carrying a cold disdain that made him feel as insignificant as a pebble before a mountain. The young man's genial smile did nothing but fill the young magus with a profound sense of wrongness.

Finally he looked away, turning his crimson eyes back to the courtyard and allowing Shirou to breathe again. His blood ran even colder despite his restored ability to use his lungs when Shinji stepped out, trying to look cool and calm while approaching the smiling figure. Seeing them walk off, appearing to talk respectfully as they headed back towards the Western-style housing areas, Shirou knew that he was summarily judged as beneath the notice of that man… assuming he was a man at all. "Was that… his Servant?"

He departed the school after taking a moment to calm his racing heart and stop his uncontrollable trembling. Shaking off the last of the unnatural fear, he mused over his afternoon plans. He needed to tell Tohsaka everything he learned and plan their strategy. That brought up the question of which of the potential targets to go after: the Master in the Temple, or the creator of the Boundary Field. On top of that, what about Shinji himself? If his Servant came and attacked, what should he do?

By the time he reached home, Shirou had made up his mind: the Master on the hill was more pressing, especially if it was the one putting people in comas all throughout the city. So far, the Boundary Field served no real discernible purpose, and its position and small size limited its actual threat level unless it was designed to trap groundskeepers sweeping the roof.

"Wha-" He paused upon crossing the threshold, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up from a bizarre feeling of being… scanned by something. The bizarre, almost electrical sensation dissipated after a second, but he still felt that annoying tingle of having collected static electricity until he entered the house. He frowned while setting aside his shoes. _'What was that feeling?'_ he wondered. That feeling was almost the same as the pressure put out by the field on the school's roof. But what could his house have in common with that?

The answer hit him almost immediately and he let himself relax. His father's Boundary Field must have done what it always does to people who enter. That had to be it; now that he was developing sensitivity to these normally unnoticeable things, he had just felt the array scan him for hostility to the residents and ignored him since he owned the place.

Still, he filed it away for future reference in case the sensation changed on him. He still felt odd about it; for an instant, he felt like someone was regarding him from within the barrier. Hell, it wasn't a stretch at all to describe it as that creepy feeling of being watched. It was most likely just Saber, but she wasn't in the sitting room or the kitchen.

A flicker of movement caught his eye from the door leading into the main hallway. Turning, he saw… _something_ dart into the hallway proper; a tall cloaked shadow that slithered, or more accurately glided, out of sight. Shirou rushed after the mystery interloper, sliding slightly on the hardwood when he rounded the corner into the hallway that served as the spine of the home.

Nobody was there. "Saber?" he called out cautiously, advancing carefully to the next bend and peering around it cautiously. No answer. Shuddering slightly at the unexplained apparition, he exhaled sharply and gathered his thoughts. God, he was seeing things now. He _really_ hoped this War ended before he started sending Saber to attack his own shadow.

The boy took a moment to get changed out of his uniform before poking his head into the side room where Saber usually slept. Strangely, she wasn't there. "Saber?"

Traipsing through the house turned up nothing, so he meandered towards the dojo. It was either there or the shed, and there was little reason to find her in the latter.

The detached building that made up the dojo definitely fit her presence, Shirou thought to himself. He found her kneeling serenely in the afternoon light softly filtering in from the high windows, eyes closed and hands in her lap. Seeing her like that did wonders for Shirou's nerves. For such a powerful warrior, she definitely looked like a small girl, one that he needed to protect, not the other way around. He wanted to say something, but disturbing her soothing meditations didn't feel right.

Silently, she opened her emerald eyes and focused on his ochre ones. "Shirou. Welcome back," she said as calmly as always. Her expression was thankfully much softer and less stern than when she was near Archer.

"Yeah, I'm back. How are you feeling? Did you eat what I left you?"

"Yes. It was excellent as I've come to expect." She smiled very slightly while saying so, a look of content approval in her normally indecipherable green eyes.

"Thank you," he smiled magnanimously. For a Heroic Spirit, she certainly loved food Shirou noted. Perhaps she was once a wanderer who never knew where her next meal would come from? Well, a good meal did make a fine icebreaker. He'd need to sit down with Saber and share a real meal and open her up a bit. After all, someone so small and wounded (even if she stubbornly refused to acknowledge it) shouldn't act so distant from someone willing to help. "Hey, Saber…" he started softly, straining to find something relevant to talk about.

"Yes?"

"I've been thinking back on when Tohsaka and I talked the yesterday." His mind turned back to the almost faerie-like young girl that commanded the force of nature known as Herakles. Just_ thinking_ about that lead-skinned titan made it hard to see straight and his stomach ache. "She said that Berserker's Master, Illyasviel, warned us about another Servant, one that's Berserker's equal. She thinks it's the Rider, but you were there too. What do you think?"

Saber's eyes hardened as she turned her eyes to her hands still resting in her lap. Her loss was still a bit of a touchy subject. "It is likely simple misdirection. Regardless of Tohsaka-san's deductions, it isn't typical or even heard of for a Rider to be able to match a monster like that Berserker in direct combat. The Rider class is known largely for their speed and the strength of their Noble Phantasms. Unless the Rider's abilities with them are truly transcendent, the chances of it being in the same league as Berserker are small."

"But what other options are there? What would lying accomplish?"

"It is entirely possible that she simply told us a lie to make us more hesitant to move. Even Berserker would fall if faced by every Master and their Servants working to bring him down. By having us chase after another Servant as a perceived threat, she would be free to act with greater impunity and split any potential alliances." Saber stated firmly.

As logical as the explanation was, Shirou's gut told him something wasn't quite adding up. "That doesn't sound right. I mean, yeah I can understand doing that if Berserker was only a little more powerful than you, but that thing was unstoppable. Why would she try and misdirect us with such a huge gap in power?"

Obviously, Saber didn't take too well to having her relative weakness pointed out but outwardly, the only sign was the curling of her fingers. "For all its power, the Berserker class is also the hardest to control by far. Not only does it demand larger amounts of prana to sustain its enhanced abilities, but it also wild and prone to ignoring a Master's orders even outside of battle. Considering how powerful this Berserker is, it wouldn't be surprising if his Master could only fight for a short time before Berserker either started rampaging out of control or depleted his Master's reserves."

"I think I see what you're saying. Even if Berserker can take everyone out on his own, if he can't fight for very long without consequence, keeping us out of a war of attrition and picking us off on their terms is important," Shirou nodded in understanding.

"Precisely." Saber's approval was subtle, but present.

Shirou smiled slightly at this, feeling slightly more at ease around the petite woman. He stood up and headed back to the dojo's door. "Alright, we'll discuss this more when Tohsaka arrives. For now, I need to start dinner."

The moment the word "dinner" slipped off his tongue, a low, gurgling roar erupted from Saber's direction, like a lion disturbed from its slumber. Turning back sharply, Saber hadn't moved; her gaze seemingly as impassive as ever, but…

Another roar filled the air, and Shirou finally found the source: Saber's stomach. "You know, you can always tell me if you're hungry, Saber. I'll make you something to tide you over," he said while feeling a sweat drop form at the absurdity.

Saber silently nodded and stood up gracefully. "That would be most appreciated."

After cooking a goodly-sized meal for her and watching it all disappear rather spectacularly into the black hole that apparently made up Saber's stomach, Shirou managed to herd her back into her hiding spot in the side room off his own bedroom, leaving her with a plate of _onigiri_ to snack on while he kept Sakura and Fujimura busy with their own dinner. Looking back on it, seeing her eat without being distracted was a rather bizarre experience: she ate with perfect refinement and etiquette, but somehow food just seemed to practically wink out of existence at an astonishing pace. If he didn't know any better, Shirou would have said she was teleporting the food directly into her stomach.

During the lull, Shirou's brow crinkled in apprehension. What the hell was he supposed to say to Fuji-nee and Sakura to get them to stay away? Unless he whipped up a miracle _really_ fast, nothing he could say would sway the older woman. Even then, Fuji-nee never did really listen to things he said, even if he felt they were important!

And then there was Sakura. Truth be told, he'd feel more comfortable if she stayed safe in his home rather than risk dealing with Shinji, especially if he was having trouble with his Servant. That ran too many risks, of course, but how could he break it to the kind-hearted girl that he didn't want her in his house for an indeterminate amount of time? Doing that would be hard enough even if was just an ordinary human! It was infuriating!

Taking a deep breath, Shirou tried attacking the issue from another angle: the streets were already dangerous, and would get even more so as the Holy Grail War intensified. Better yet, the days were still a bit short thanks to winter's grip, so he might convince at least Sakura to head home where she'd be safe before sundown. Fuji-nee on the other hand likely couldn't be convinced regardless of what he tried. The fact that she was a former national-level kendo competitor normally was enough to keep her safe, but not this time. The best he could do was try to get her to see reason.

He smiled and let out a rueful chuckle at that. While he was hoping for the impossible, he would really like it if all the Masters and their Servants suddenly decided that the Holy Grail was not worth the trouble, called a permanent ceasefire, and went home to live peaceful lives.

* * *

When Fuji-nee and Sakura finally arrived, dinner was prepped and started normally enough, when Shirou noticed something that worried him. "Sakura, are you cold? You're shivering."

"Eh? I'm fine, Senpai," the young Matou girl tried to wave it off, but Fuji-nee wasn't about to let it slide. She reached over and put a hand on Sakura's forehead.

"You're a little warm, Sakura-chan. If you're not feeling well, you shouldn't be pushing yourself. You could really get sick!" the energetic teacher fretted. Though normally quite happy to tease Shirou whenever he was feeling miserable (a decidedly rare occurrence anyways), Fuji-nee doted on the plum-haired girl quite readily.

"It's just a little chill…" Sakura pleaded.

Shirou could only smile at the girl's cute embarrassment. "You might want to get some extra rest, Sakura. If you do get sick, Fuji-nee might just go and bury you under a five-foot layer of comforters."

"Hey! I'm not that bad!" the woman affectionately dubbed "Tiger" (much to her chagrin) squawked indignantly.

"Riiiiiight…" the boy drawled playfully. "If the weather's good, you might settle for a two-foot layer."

Fuji-nee huffed in irritation. "Meanie."

Turning to Sakura, Shirou's expression displayed his deep concern openly. "I am serious about this though, Sakura. If you're not feeling well, take some time to recover. Just taking a few extra hours to sleep would probably make you feel much better."

The girl's face, still a little pale but colored by a slight blush turned away slightly. "M-maybe I should go to bed early."

"Just focus on your health. Maybe you should rest at your house after school. I'd never forgive myself if you got sick coming all the way out here every day," Shirou pressed. If this worked, he'd have killed two birds in one stone: Keeping his little sister figure off the streets after sundown and keeping her out of his house. With any luck, the urgency and focus required of a Master would also keep Shinji from hurting her again, too. "Fuji-nee, after dinner you think you could walk her home?"

The older woman smiled. "A true gentleman would walk her home himself, but I understand. I'll make sure she gets home safe."

"Thank you," the magus said warmly.

After allowing Sakura to help him with the dishes, he gently ushered the young women out of his house. Once the door closed, he sighed. The clock on the wall continued to tick away, the time reading 8:24. Tohsaka would be here soon, and then… then they get down to the business of planning their joint strategy.

Why, oh _why_ was it that the only time his little schoolboy crush came visiting his house was to discuss life-or-death battles? Life was so unfair like that.

Like any good host, Shirou spent his time preparing some simple snacks and tea, inviting Saber to sit at the table. He wasn't surprised at all that she had picked her plate of _onigiri_ clean. Not a single grain of rice remained. "Thank you for the food, Shirou," she said while seating herself.

Shirou turned partially and said, "It's no problem. I'm glad you enjoyed it."

Saber quietly waited for her Master to join her in waiting for their allies before speaking again. "Before Tohsaka-san arrives, there is one matter to discuss."

"Hm?"

"If you are going to survive this, you are going to need more training. Our first session had considerable progress, but that won't be enough. We'll need to start training you in earnest."

The memories of his rather merciless (though Saber did hold back… so she said…) beat-down by Saber brought an unwelcome twitch from the boy's eye. He wholeheartedly agreed that he needed the experience, but the idea of being put through the meat tenderizer she called "training" wasn't exactly a comforting one. "Alright. I'm pretty sure I can set aside a few hours after school for training. I can't exactly go to class looking like I got into a fight every day."

The legendary heroine nodded. "Understood. It also might be prudent to simply stop attending classes until the Holy Grail War is over. If you still do not wish me to accompany you to class, this would allow me to protect you despite that."

Had she made this suggestion yesterday or even this morning, Shirou would have dismissed it out of hand. Now, he had the image of a man with piercing red eyes regarding him contemptuously, and at minimum Shinji and by extension his Servant knew he was a Master. Perhaps he wasn't as discreet as he had hoped… "I'll think about it. At the very least, there is still the Boundary Field on the school's roof to deal with first."

"Another Master's work... I can understand your desire to keep watch on it," Saber conceded.

Their conversation halted thanks to a knock at the door. Sure enough, Tohsaka was waiting for him dressed in a short black skirt, long black socks and a long-sleeved red shirt with white cross embroidered into it over her throat and upper chest. She barely greeted him before practically shoving a bag from a local bakery into his arms. "Evening, Shirou-kun! Thanks for the trouble. Say, is that large outbuilding I saw a guest house?" she asked with a winning smile, completely blindsiding the less skilled magus and derailing his train of thought.

So great was his confusion that Shirou could only just answer her question. "Uh, yeah-"

"Great!" she cut him off. "By the way, the bag there has some tea cakes for us, so consider that my contribution." With that, the raven-haired magus discarded her shoes and hefted a large bag, filled to capacity, and marched off back towards the building in question, the ghostly form of Archer close behind. Both Shirou and Saber blinked with matching expressions of confusion, unsure what to do about the matter and the tea cakes still resting in the amateur magus's arms.

By the time their brains rebooted, Tohsaka had already selected the largest room in the outbuilding and deposited her bag there, coming back out to see him at the edge of the main house. "Tohsaka, what are you doing?" Shirou asked, his overwhelming befuddlement taking any and all heat he might have tried to project as master of the house.

The magus in red leveled a serious stare that silenced any protests he might have had. "I told you at school, remember? I was attacked on my way home last night by a false Archer. I don't think trying to keep to ourselves in our homes is going to be feasible anymore. Think about it: our houses are so far apart that either one of us can be attacked before we can get help. Centering our base of operations in the same spot is just good strategy."

"But-"

"I'll be counting on you, Shirou-kun! Please take care of me during my stay!" she suddenly chirped, killing the conversation with some unheard command. "Now then, let's get to the living room. No more screwing around."

Her forceful personality swept the stupefied boy along at her pace until he was seated at his dinner table, seated beside Saber while Archer materialized across from him, leaning on the wall behind Rin. "Uh, so what did you want to talk about first?" Shirou almost stammered, her rapid-fire actions keeping him off balance.

"First we need to lay some ground rules. The biggest one is that for the time being, we'll need to stay close together as often as possible. That means the four of us will be traveling as a single group even while hunting for other Masters. There are way too many powerful enemies to simply fight alone anymore," Tohsaka stated, propping one elbow in her hand and holding up a finger.

Saber narrowed her eyes. The moment the more powerful magus had stepped back in from claiming her room, she had stiffened her posture and set her eyes on Archer, her focus flickering between Master and Servant for any sign of treachery. She might have given them the benefit of the doubt for the interim, but something about Archer rubbed her the wrong way. Though a knight in title, the tall man had no knightly graces; a rude, sarcastic sort and his stance showed nothing but hostility towards Shirou, though he hid it well. "That may prevent enemies from revealing their presence at all. Two Masters and Servants together would be almost impossible for a single Master to overcome."

"True, but we can still attack points we know contain targets of interest. The first could be the creator of the Boundary Field at school. Disrupting that and any other similar fields will invariably draw out the magus who made it," Rin pointed out.

That reminded Shirou of a rather important bit of info. "Tohsaka, I know who one of the magi is."

"'Magi?' What makes you think there's more than one?"

"Well, Shinji met me after class and told me; he's been drafted into this, too. He's incapable of magic though, as is his Servant."

"That weasel? A Master? That's disgusting to even think about," Rin groaned.

Shirou was slightly tempted to defend his friend, but he had other matters on hand so he bit his cheek and pressed on. "He told me that there is another Master using Ryuudou Temple as a base of operations. That's the one apparently behind the 'gas leaks:' the Servant is feeding on their souls."

Rin leaned on her hand, picking up his train of thought. "And if it didn't take all of their life energy, the victims fall comatose to recover with no signs of injury. Worse, they've taken a fallen leyline… Damn it. Why would Shinji tell you this, though?"

"He considered it a friendly warning to show good will, I guess. He wanted an alliance, but I couldn't betray our own partnership."

Both Rin and Saber nodded in understanding. Archer didn't visibly react. "Your honesty really is refreshing, Shirou-kun. Still, if Shinji was being truthful for once, we have two targets to pick from. We'll need to attack quickly."

"Assuming the brat was telling the truth at all," Archer stated almost nonchalantly.

"I know you had some issues with him, Tohsaka, but he's one of my oldest friends. This war has him scared beyond spiting you. He's well aware that he's at the disadvantage, so lying to me would only make us enemies, something he doesn't want," Shirou tried to reason.

"Hm… If Matou is a Master with no magical potential, he's severely limited on what he can do with just his Servant's reserves and explain why I never noticed him before… alienating one of his only potential allies would be rather stupid… wouldn't put it past him, though," Rin muttered, more to herself to get her thoughts in order before lifting her eyes to Shirou and Saber. "It wouldn't hurt to check it out. We're all at full strength, so we only need to pick a target."

Surprisingly, Shirou had an immediate opinion, and an oddly aggressive one. "You said the Boundary Field isn't doing anything at school and is keyed to target something specific, right? It shouldn't be a threat right now, but the Servant on the mountain has been feeding on souls for what, a week? That has to end right now." The boy's normally kind face had taken on a steely edge, unwittingly resembling a certain black-clad swordsman's hard-eyed scowl.

For a moment, the rest of the room was silent, each other person at the table genuinely stunned by this new side of the young Emiya. Saber was the first to regain her bearings, and her emerald eyes shined with visible approval, a slight smile on her lips. "Very good, Shirou. I agree with your assessment."

"Hm… I'd like a closer look at that Boundary Field, but you do bring up a good point. The fact that it doesn't affect us or Archer limits its potential uses. Alright, looks like the first target is going to be the temple. Archer?"

"As much as I hate to admit it, the amateur has the right idea. Let's get this over with quick," the white-haired Heroic Spirit replied to his Master, the man's level, almost carefree tone hiding the consternation he was feeling. _'I don't think this happened when I was last here at all…'_

With their first mission decided, Rin suggested everyone take a short nap to clear their heads before moving out. Launching their assault after midnight held the least risks, and there was a good chance of a battle that would be beyond human limits raging near them. They'd need every scrap of power they could muster.

* * *

While Shirou, Rin and their Servants rested and prepared for their battle, on the other side of the bridge another group of warriors was just getting ready for their own march into battle. At least, they _hoped_ to find a Master and their Servant.

Today could be best described as _dull_. Without the ability to zero in on the magi or even pick them out of a crowd of normal humans if they didn't wish to be found, their only lead was the hunt for Servants, but even that carried its share of hurdles. For one, an astralized Servant, even while drawing on their Master's energy, barely put out more energy than a normal ghost, and their texture blended into the air. If only one would materialize, then they'd stick out like a sore thumb once they entered about a mile-wide radius.

Of course, no one was dumb enough to do that during the daylight hours, at least not without somehow concealing themselves behind barriers. As such, the group of powerful souls from Karakura found themselves in the peculiar position of having the equivalent of a day off in the middle of a conflict.

Considering their battles tended to fall at the extremes between "barely diversions from normal life" and "taking on an entire plane of existence all at once," it was rather jarring.

Tatsuki lucked out running into Bazett and managing to get a spar, largely sparing her from tedium for the morning hours and was pleasantly worn out enough to enjoy staying still for a few hours afterward. From her testimony, the redheaded woman didn't seem to remember anything, displaying no sign of suspicion nor attempting to warn Tatsuki away. The acid test would of course be her reaction to Rukia, something the young noble wasn't particularly looking forward to.

About the only things of interest that happened at all during the daylight hours was the extermination of six hollows over the course of the day and visiting a small used book store with Rider in tow.

The way her eyes lit up upon seeing the shelves of books was oddly endearing, almost child-like in its wide-eyed wonder. In fact, it wasn't an exaggeration to say that this little store held more books than Rider had likely ever seen in one place. With Ichigo footing the bill, she bought no less than seven books of all subjects and sizes, from a novel about an assassin-turned-priest to a slightly used college textbook on modern philosophy. Ichigo got the distinct impression that she was tempted to buy many, many more, but restrained herself in what must have been a mighty act of will.

Now, the team of young war veterans was dressed for battle, the Soul Reapers in their soul forms, Uryu in his Quincy battle costume, and the rest dressed in normal-looking but mobile and ultimately disposable clothes. "Okay, sun's finally gone down. Where should we start patrol?" Ichigo asked the group. The kitchen table had become the War Room for them, with a map of Fuyuki spread over the table and the various teens and spirits surrounding it with stern or dispassionate expressions, the chandelier overhead providing all of the light.

Rukia took a look at the map and pointed to the southern edge of Shinto. "These woods, for one. We've put them off for long enough, and we should at least make a cursory probe tonight." Sliding her slender finger across the map, she traced a ring around northwestern Miyama, on the west side of the river. "And here. This was where the largest concentrations of spiritual pressure were detected earlier. If there is a Master, they'd likely be somewhere in this region."

Uryu brought a hand to his chin. "That area could be dangerous. Servants appear to be extremely adept at sensing danger. Even if we are currently just scouting the enemy, we might still provoke a battle if we are detected."

"On top of that, we'll need to start paying closer attention to Hollow activity. I don't know why, but they've been getting more active and more numerous every day," Rukia pointed out. "Ishida, Chad, I'd suggest checking the forest. The Archer saw you last night and might avoid you or fight if you show up again." Rukia took charge as always in these situations, but tactfully considered Uryu's continued tension with Soul Reapers in general, even if she, Renji and Ichigo were excluded from his contempt.

"Understood…"

Rider surprisingly enough, interrupted for the first time since she had joined them at these sessions. "If I could suggest something, I think I should accompany them. Ichigo's bond with me is unaffected by distance." The tall girl bowed her head slightly. "As much sense as it makes for me to stay near him, I've come to realize that I need to trust you all the same as he does."

The abrupt change from the normal arrangement was rather startling. "Are you sure? You were pretty insistent on accompanying Ichigo for patrol before," Rukia pointed out.

"Truthfully, I wasn't sure of the depth of your connection to Ichigo. As a Servant, I expected you all to either be magi that would wish my services for yourselves, or people who might have been taking advantage of my Master's enormous power for your own ends. I felt it best to watch you all carefully," she reasoned. Though Rider didn't put any serious emotion into her words, everyone in the room had a pretty good idea what being "watched" would likely end with.

Tatsuki eyed the Servant a little more nervously than the rest, seeing as how she shared a room with her since the first night. The idea of not meeting Rider's approval and having a foot-long spike rammed through her in her sleep wasn't exactly pleasant to envision.

"If Ichigo is willing to put so much faith in you, I will protect you as well," Rider finished with her blindfolded face still completely serious.

Ichigo's confused frown softened to a scowl with the barest hints of gratitude. '_About damn time she took everyone off the "potential threat" list._' "Thanks for that, Rider."

The lavender-haired beauty turned her head slightly so that he could tell he was looking at him and gave him a slight nod and a small, fleeting smile.

"So, now that our options have opened up a bit, we'll go with a slightly different arrangement. Ichigo, you're with me. Being invisible to human eyes will let us get closer to anything unusual and let us move unhindered. Chad, Arisawa-san, Inoue-san, you three should be our 'free group' for the night. Patrol any route you like, but keep in contact so we can coordinate. Rider, would you still mind going with Uryu?" she was under no illusions about where Rider took her orders.

Rider simply nodded. "And where are we going?"

Adjusting his glasses, Uryu didn't take his eyes off the map. "The forest. We won't be going too deep tonight, but the negative energy there is unusual and if a magus is behind it, I want a good sense for their unique spiritual pressure."

"Very well."

In minutes, the Quincy was ghosting along the rooftops while Rider's inhuman speed and agility allowed her to keep up with him, her long hair flowing behind her like a lavender serpent. The forest was only a few miles from their hotel, but Uryu led the way along a winding route on the off chance that a Servant might see them or vice versa. More importantly to Uryu, as long as they were moving, he could focus some of his attention on Rider and the link between her and Kurosaki.

Despite having no outward issue with partnering with her, Uryu couldn't help but feel wary around the summoned woman. On his own time, today especially, the Quincy had attempted to hunt down references on blind women in legend. Most of them of renown were oracles, but Rider was most definitely a warrior, and his searches turned up nothing that really fit. The enigma of her identity was really irritating him.

"Rider-san, I've been meaning to ask: when do you plan on revealing who you are?"

The woman didn't even stumble at the subject, having wondered who would get around to asking her. "I intended to tell him before he sleeps. This isn't something a Servant takes lightly, Ishida, so I would be grateful if it was in private between Master and Servant. If he wishes to tell you later then that is his choice, but I will advise against it."

"Why didn't you simply accompany him tonight and tell him? For that matter, why not sooner?" the white warrior barely managed to keep his voice clear of his suspicion, making his question come out as coolly logical.

Unfortunately for his attempt at civility, his hidden hostility came through loud and clear to Rider regardless. "Ah yes, you weren't there when I explained it. Out in public, any animal from birds to stray cats and rats can serve as the eyes and ears for a magus as a familiar, and a magus can have as many under their control as their prana can handle. To tell Ichigo my name in any public setting bears the risk of another hearing it."

"Paranoia will paralyze you if you let it, Rider-san. Is it really that much of a danger for your identity to be revealed?" he asked, and her spiritual pressure shifted angrily, reminding him how dangerous Rider might be without Ichigo giving her orders and, more importantly, restrictions.

Her verbal reply was devoid of emotion. "Yes, it is."

Uryu glanced back at the Servant. Her face was still focused straight ahead, but he had the feeling that behind that purple blindfold she was giving him one hell of a cold glare. "As much as I don't like you concealing it at all, I doubt Kurosaki will be able to keep a secret from us anyway, if for no other reason than to make sure we are aware of anything that could be of use in protecting you and what to expect from you in battle should you use your Noble Phantasm. I'd rather not get caught in an unexpected blast radius," he said as he turned his eyes back to the front, kicking off the top of a telephone pole while Rider ran along the wires without so much as disturbing them, still easily keeping pace.

"If it comes to that, do not be directly in front of me," she stated cryptically.

The seemingly straightforward piece of advice quietly unnerved the Quincy. Something so simple and pretty much elementary held way more potential connotations than he wanted to contemplate at that moment, most of which involved various degrees of devastation.

Instead, he focused on the link between Servant and Master. _'How peculiar… no matter how far we go from Kurosaki, she is still constantly drawing on his spirit energy at the same rate. Distance genuinely isn't a factor…'_ Despite that, there was a small change in the way the spirit energy "felt" to his senses as they moved away from the Soul Reaper acting as her Master. The energy that fueled the Servant was changing in form and becoming more transparent to him, likely representing the shift to prana from typical spirit energy.

Prana was proving rather annoying in that it was significantly more difficult to pick out from the background spirit energy in the atmosphere. It was still distinct to his Quincy senses, but it definitely didn't stand out in stark contrast as easily as Soul Reapers or Hollows did. He berated himself again; fighting Hollows and Soul Reapers almost exclusively had made him complacent about picking out new spiritual anomalies.

In truth, if Lancer wasn't materialized (and thus generating a comet of energy when he approached Kurosaki), there was a good chance he might have missed him entirely. The worst part was the way prana melted into the background over distance, meaning that unless he jumped to pursue the thread, he couldn't pick the Master out at all, and the moment a Servant astralized, the trail effectively vanished.

Truly, magi were an entirely new kind of headache for the proud Quincy to deal with.

* * *

Midnight rolled around into Fuyuki as it always did this time of year. The clouds were sparse and looked to be trying to stay away from the nearly full moon, and the cold air clung to every surface, promising a layer of frost by sunrise. In the chilly silence of the windless night, the sound of two alarm clocks buzzing practically deafened the two Masters holed up in the Emiya estate. Both jumped to full wakefulness and mentally prepared themselves for battle.

In his room, Shirou took several slow breaths and gathered his courage. While he had agreed to this, every time he closed his eyes, an image of Saber's bloody form, nearly torn in half by a blow from Berserker and propping herself up with her bloody sword would invade his mind as if accusing him for his worthlessness in battle. If he was going to avoid a repeat of that scene, he would need vigilance. Even if all he could do was call out a warning, one second of alertness could mean the difference between life and death. His mind eased a tiny bit with the knowledge that he had the additional support of both Rin and her acid-tongued Servant this time around, unlike against Lancer and Berserker. Archer might treat him like dirt, but at least he had the strength to fight.

Once the Emiya scion had his mind reasonably focused, he opened the side room door to find that Saber was already standing in the dark, her silver armor gleaming majestically in the moonlight streaming through the window and her eyes narrowed into that fierce but entrancingly clear battle mask. "Are you ready, Shirou?"

"Yeah, as much as I'll ever be, at any rate," he replied. "What about you? Are you sure your wound's healed enough for this?"

Saber favored him with a slight curve of the lips, the closest expression to a smile she would show him before a battle. "Do not worry. This is what a Servant is meant to do; I'll be fine."

Shirou nodded while he felt a surge of soothing warmth suffuse him, as if he was basking in her confidence. This was almost instantly beaten down by the reminder that this small girl was talking about herself as a weapon. With a forced nod, he and Saber headed out to the entryway.

In the largest of the attached outbuilding's guest rooms, the other Master/Servant pair prepared themselves notably more efficiently. Rin might not be a morning person by normal standards, but with the peak of her magical power at two o'clock in the morning, times like these were when she was often the most active in preparation for magic rituals, so she was awake and completely aware in a heartbeat.

Laid across her desk were an assortment of gems and tools that the Tohsaka magus used in her magical endeavors, sorted for her convenience. She barely took a moment to put her hair in her twin tails with her trademark black ribbons before she lined her pockets with an assortment of gems from her supply, twenty in all and each infused with years' worth of magical energy. For the sake of versatility, she had five jewels tied to each of the four elements with direct combat application; fire, wind, water and earth. While Rin had an affinity to them all in addition to the fifth, Ether, the Theoretical Element wasn't usually suited for this kind of battle. "Archer, let's go."

"Yes, Master," the red knight obediently joined her, his invisible form settling in a step behind her. His mind was clear, and his senses were sharp; there would be no ambushes by Servant-wannabes _this_ time. As much as he was loath to admit it, their amateur partner was going to need to stick around a bit longer, especially since he was Saber's Master, and her skills were practically required to survive against the stronger forces out there. Until Berserker and the orange-haired swordsman were defeated, they'd need all the help they could get. Besides that, he needed more time to think; things were going so _wrong_ from how he remembered them.

"Ready, Shirou-kun?" Rin asked while the two Masters slipped on their shoes. It was mostly a rhetorical question, but it was also the final test of Shirou's resolve. For all his problems, especially with his practically non-existent sense of self-worth, she really couldn't see him backing down from this, regardless of the risks to life and limb.

She was right. "Let's go. If we hurry we can get there in about an hour from here," he replied resolutely. With a slight smile, Rin stepped into the darkness ahead of her partner, only pausing so Shirou could lock the door and the front gate. With a nod shared between the Masters they took off, setting a brisk but not overly trying pace. For the Servants this kind of light trot could be maintained for a week straight easily.

As the best fighter bar none of this little alliance, Saber silently took the lead with Shirou behind her and Rin behind him, mainly due to Shirou stubbornly rushing ahead without thinking in support of his Servant, such as it was. Archer brought up the rear, his superb vision and mastery of the bow making him ideal for spotting and dispatching anyone attempting to sneak up from behind.

They only paused once due to Shirou sensing a dark presence like the monster from the schoolyard some ways away, slowly fading away until it vanished from his senses, too far away to notice anymore. Perhaps it was chasing after another victim. Even if that samurai girl spirit's purpose was stopping the masked monsters, he couldn't count on her to be everywhere at once. He'd have to keep his eyes open.

While he was at it, the young magus renewed his promise to find some way to help his Servant with all of the abilities at his disposal, including his newfound spiritual sensitivity. Not that he knew how, naturally.

In contrast, Saber wore a slight smile, one that still conveyed the sheer confidence she felt. Running through the night to face down an enemy, she felt complete and full of vigor while leading her Master and his allies to do battle. The fire in her Master had been stoked and now she was being charged to take the next step towards victory. This daring lightning raid on the enemy bolstered Saber's opinion on her Master significantly.

Almost an hour later, the quartet arrived at the base of Mount Enzou. While it was mostly a calm night, that alone didn't explain the sheer lifelessness that greeted them at the mountain steps. The wind, an ever-so-slight but near-constant chill along their route, had gone totally still. No leaves stirred, no night animals scurried or made their calls. The mountain, normally vibrant and full of unseen life, felt utterly dead.

Saber barely paused, but the small smile left her face like it never was. Archer's posture shifted, but otherwise kept largely the same, ready to spring to battle from any angle. Rin stuck her hand in one of her coat pockets, a deceptively dangerous action coming from the magus. And Shirou…

The boy couldn't get over how _unnatural_ the stillness was. The air was _dead_, both figuratively and literally to his growing spiritual senses. The place had a heavy aura of death about it so strong that it was brought to mind images of walking through a battlefield after an absolute massacre. The normally serene tree line framing the stone steps now screamed of dangers within the depthless darkness. Shirou only just managed to suppress his gag reflex at the sensation of deathly stillness and corruption looming over him. Only his Servant's presence let him retain control.

For some reason, being near Saber felt like basking in warm sunlight, a sensation that cut through the sickening air just when he needed it most. Now wasn't the time to really dwell on it, but he briefly wondered if such a thing was normal for Masters or if it was his new sense feeling her powerful aura and drawing strength from it. Either way, the young Master steeled his resolve and followed at his Servant's heels.

The stairway was long, very long even for the Servants. The quartet ascended steadily with Saber pulling only a little further ahead, fully intending to barrel into the waiting wooden gates with the force of a battering ram and smash any magical defenses aside in the process. For almost a full minute of dashing upward towards the temple, nothing even tried to stop them. Every one of them knew that their ferocious charge shouldn't be this easy.

Finally as they neared the top of the stairs, their first obstacle appeared as if coalescing from mist beneath the great _torii_ gate. Saber instantly came to a halt at the sight and her companions did the same.

The man waiting for them at the head of the steps was… gallant. His poise was perfect and no enmity, or any clear emotion for that matter, entered his eyes. Despite holding that extremely long blade, a weapon nearly impossible to use practically, he had no openings.

None.

Even when faced with the killing intent of a Servant of Saber's caliber he didn't flinch, his cool blue eyes not even flickering for an instant. His garb was that of a swordsman of this country, colored in light shades of purple and blue, the gold trim on his _kateginu_ coat the only deviation. His features were fair and his dark blue hair was tied back in a ponytail by a purple band. "A samurai?" Saber questioned.

"Who is that?" Shirou wondered softly. He could see the man with the moon at his back, and even he, the amateur, felt a surge of nervousness swell through him. Rin had already paused further back, likely aware of the potential danger even more sharply than the Master leading the charge.

Saber didn't respond immediately, completely at a loss. The figure had no dread aura, no overwhelming presence. Hell, he had _no_ presence at all. His blade didn't even radiate any energy. So why?

Why was there sweat pouring from her brow?

Her instincts were all screaming at her not to take the man lightly. Even though she was the Knight of the Sword, she couldn't bring herself to advance. The man before her wouldn't allow it with his serene gaze. It was like he could kill her instantly if she faltered for even a hundredth of a second. Worse, he had the high ground. To advance, even if his sword was but a brittle weapon compared to her invisible blade, was foolhardy. Still, there was one thing she could ask. Shifting her stance slightly with her blade ready at her side, she called out, "I ask of you, Servant, which class are you?"

Surprisingly, he responded with a slight smile. "Servant Assassin. Kojirou Sasaki."

Both Masters and both Servants present widened their eyes. For a Servant to be so forthcoming with their identity was inconceivable! "What are you-"

The Assassin interrupted. "It was rather rude of you to ask like that, Ojou-san. Isn't it a normal thing to name oneself before a battle? Even more so in this case, fair one. Making such a face like that at my response is unbecoming if you know the rules of the duel." The man calling himself Kojirou was obviously enjoying the looks of total confusion on the faces of the Servants and their Masters.

Rin's mind was barely able to keep up with the implications of Assassin's words. As a Japanese native preparing for the Holy Grail War, the Tohsaka heir was well-versed in myths and legends of her country on top of those of other nations. Kojirou Sasaki wasn't one that could be reasonably called a hero. A man known only through word of mouth, he was one whose very existence is still in question by scholars today. His only real claim to fame was supposedly his mastery of the blade before falling to Musashi Miyamoto. How could a man like him be a Servant?

Saber hesitated. If she were alone, she would have no issues revealing her name to this man, as mutual honor would seal their lips if death did not. However, behind her were not only her Master, but Rin Tohsaka and Archer, both of whom could go from allies to enemies in a single instant. To reveal her name, the very core of a Servant, to potential enemies here was tantamount to taking away a knight's armor. She felt trapped by his simple words, caught between her honor as a knight and her duty as a Servant, both of which she couldn't compromise.

"Your eyes say it all. I can see that you would give me that honor if you had less ears trained on our words. Forgive me. It was I who was the rude one," Assassin said suddenly, slowly descending the stairs to meet his foe. "For those like us, names hold little true value. I wish to know you, and for that our swords will be enough. Am I right, Servant Saber?"

"Wha…" Again the man's smooth words had Saber completely off balance. How did he know?

Shirou grit his teeth. This man… could he read minds, or was he just that good? Either way, Saber was in for a fight just as difficult as one against Berserker!

Assassin's serene smile never faltered even as his blue eyes locked on to her emerald. "Don't be so surprised. Even if you hide your weapon, you cannot hide the pressure of a swordsman. Such an impressive aura could only belong to the Saber, correct?"

While "pleasantries" were exchanged above, Archer skirted the rear of the group and took a small step into the trees. He couldn't go far from the path even with his shroud shielding him from the worst of the environment, but at least now he could line up a clean shot in a pinch. Rin meanwhile fingered a gem in her pocket and stepped forward to stand by Shirou. "Let's back up a bit. We'd only get in the way."

Shirou reluctantly nodded and moved several steps down with his fellow magus, every step feeling like he had dipped his shoes in lead. He hated this weakness of his. Again he wondered what it would take to become strong enough to fight beside Saber, or better yet, not involve anyone else at all. The best he could do now was watch and pray.

"I do not care for your name. I will be satisfied knowing that the Saber fell to my sword. We are Servants, beings meant to fight, are we not?" the samurai stated as he lifted the blade to Saber's breast, his expression genuinely happy.

Saber shifted her leading foot forward. "…Certainly. That is what we are."

"Come, then. Show me the peerless swordsmanship of the greatest of Servant classes," Assassin invoked.

His blade flickered silver in the moonlight with the first motion.

There could be no greater difference in style between the two warriors. The two blades, one a nodachi so long most would call it impractical, the other invisible to the human eye, clashed repeatedly. Every eye that bore witness to the duel could only watch in awe no matter how hard they tried to look away or focus their thoughts elsewhere.

Each of the uncountable strikes was a masterpiece, a stroke from an artist's brush. The sparks from their colliding blows flashed so regularly, so swiftly that it lit the space between them as steadily as a torch might. Several dozen attacks, parries and counterattacks were traded in seconds, and neither one gained the slightest edge. Assassin never retreats even a single step, only seeming to sway gracefully to evade the harsher, more forceful swings of Saber, who couldn't gain an inch of ground before his sweeping slashes and swift thrusts.

Their battle was equal parts dance and war. For Shirou and Rin, all thought left their minds as they tried futilely to follow their swords. Both blade masters held an elegance and a grace that defied description, but their superhuman speed made it impossible to fully follow them no matter how focused the witnesses were.

Saber charged the swordsman again, who pushed her back with an effortless swing of his longer blade, stymieing the smaller woman completely. Again the differences could not be greater between them. Saber's sword, a bolt of steel lightning, found itself unable to find its mark against the hurricane winds that made up Assassin's attacks and defenses. Saber held the advantage in both speed and power, but somehow striking Assassin was like trying to cut the very air she breathed, and he moved away from her every blow while he launched several of his own, heedless of the fact his eyes couldn't visually track her blade. Even though his blade was longer and his strikes less direct, Assassin's mastery of his weapon allowed him to keep up with the technically faster Servant, even at close range where the overly long blade should have the disadvantage.

Finally there came a lull in the battle, Saber having stepped out of Assassin's range while Assassin didn't pursue; his task was to defend, so there was no need to press the attack. "Troublesome, indeed. I didn't think something as simple as an invisible sword would be so tricky to fight against," he commented slowly. For the spectators, that was almost funny, seeing how easily the warrior evaded and parried Saber's nigh unstoppable blows. "I'm impressed. Your skill is indeed worthy of song and story to have survived this long against my Monohoshizao. Your small size belies your ability. Still, you cannot hope to pass if you continue to limit yourself."

"Enough!" Saber shouted as she moved again, her blade once more sweeping towards Assassin's neck. The man leaned back and brought his long blade up towards her arm, and Saber swung low to evade only for the taller man to almost dance over her blade before adjusting his swing to aim for her neck. The blow was parried in an instant, but Saber gritted her teeth in frustration all the same.

Again, there is enough of a lull in the exchange for Assassin to speak. "Ah, I see it now. Your sword's blade is about… three _shaku _ (90 centimeters) long and… four _sun_ (12 centimeters) wide at its base. A typical western sword in shape. Fitting."

Shirou gasped in awe. "Unreal…"

"Without any magecraft or even forcibly exchanging blows, he figured out Saber's sword?" Rin muttered. "How?"

"Impressive," Saber allowed herself to admit.

"Impressed over something as mundane as that? This isn't anything more than a street performance to the two of us. I cannot ever match you in power alone, but you cannot touch me in technique alone. Come; show me your true sword." Assassin's expression shifted slightly, his serene smile slowly coming away.

When Saber didn't respond right away, Assassin sighed a little. "Perhaps I am being rude again. To you, I may not seem worth your full strength, especially if you intend to fight again immediately after. However…" he reached into his _kateginu_ before continuing, "…my Master has asked me to test something for her. Perhaps if you see it, you will draw your sword for real, rather than play." Withdrawing his hand from the garb the group, even Archer in the trees, couldn't help but raise an eyebrow, save Shirou.

He, on the other hand, took one look at the object and felt his dinner try and crawl its way back up his throat. Why was Assassin carrying one of THOSE? For that matter, what could he possibly gain from it? Shirou couldn't tear his eyes away from the object, but the longer he looked, the worse he felt. His body rebelled against him after a moment, and bile rose up his throat. His limbs felt light and powerless and he could barely support himself, all because of that _thing_. Shirou's knees gave out from under him the moment the object stopped pulsing in the Servant's grip, his body dropping awkwardly on his hands a few steps down. He could feel in his very soul that something was about to go horribly _wrong_.

"Shirou-kun?" Rin crouched to his side in concern, noting that he was starting to sweat and shake. His skin had paled significantly, and his eyes were wide with stark terror. "What's wrong? What happened?"

All the boy could force out of his suddenly dry throat was: "Th-that mask…"

In Assassin's hand was indeed a mask. Bone white, it resembled a Japanese _oni_ complete with small, slightly curved horns over the eyes and sharpened teeth. The chin was elongated and the mask's edge had several lines that almost resembled how Magic Circuits were visualized, appearing as golden channels bent at odd angles that stopped just at the edge of the actual face.

With a look of mild disgust on his face, Assassin took one brief look at the mask before regarding Saber again. "Prepare yourself, Saber. Any advantage you might have had will be lost if you do not use absolutely everything you have, one way or another." With those chilling words, Assassin placed the mask on his face, the golden markings ominously pulsing with a cold inner light for a moment before dimming.

When Assassin launched his next attack, he was noticeably faster, a missile with a shining arc of silver shooting towards the startled Servant, but for Saber it was just enough to bring up her sword before Assassin's strike slammed into her with tremendous force, lifting her off her feet slightly. It might not have looked impressive to most considering how hard Servants could hit, but it was still a much stronger blow than his previous precision cuts. Assassin paused as if to take a measure of himself or his opponent's reaction. "Interesting," he muttered.

Saber immediately leaped up the stairs towards him, her blade low while her mouth tightened in a grim line. She almost stopped herself when it became apparent Assassin wasn't going to counterattack. Her instincts told her that Assassin wasn't simply letting her strike him, but he wasn't moving even when her blade approached his ribs.

At the last possible instant before the blade connected, Assassin moved around her so swiftly that Saber was momentarily off balance, her attack hitting nothing and leaving her exposed. The indigo warrior did not press his advantage immediately, his eyes narrowed as he considered something. "How unusual," he commented to himself. Assassin didn't appear winded or hurt, but something was amiss, and both combatants sensed it.

To Saber, Assassin's nonexistent presence was starting to flicker, ghosting across her senses when he paused, his aura screaming of danger and something… evil.

For Assassin, his normally iron-clad control of his emotions was starting to falter, frustration and anger building up within him at Saber's callous refusal to give him a real fight.

Assassin charged to attack again, this time without any mercy or testing. If his smooth arcing cuts were once the arcing winds of a hurricane, now they came as the howling fury of a tornado. Saber lost most of her offensive ability trying to counter the relentless assault, the masked Servant attacking faster and more powerfully until Saber's arms burned from the jarring impacts ringing through her invisible sword. The gap had disappeared between them in terms of power. Now it came down to skill, where Assassin was proving to have the edge.

As the Servant lauded as the greatest swordsman, Saber's pride gave her the determination to continue attacking, though the chances to do so were becoming fewer and fewer as Assassin continued to move faster and attack more frequently, actively attempting to force Saber to give ground. Rather than simply defending his perch, Assassin was pushing her back and trying to overwhelm her.

The sudden shift in Assassin's method of combat continued to throw Saber off balance. Rhyme and reason to his attacks were replaced by equally precise, but more aggressive moves. He didn't seem to follow a set style anymore, lunging at any gap and drawing dangerously close to cutting her arms, legs and throat. He was still relying on skill over power, but the nature of his swordsmanship had changed on some base level. Finally, Assassin ceased his attack, bringing the formidable Monohoshizao to his side in an effortless, elegant motion. "Do you see now, Saber? Holding back against me is suicide. Reveal your true sword, or are you so arrogant that acknowledging me as worthy of your full strength is anathema to you?" Assassin's normally casual tone was developing a grating undertone of annoyance.

Saber resumed her stance, still unable to see an opening of any kind in Assassin's passive guard. With his heightened agility and strength, attacking was looking even less appealing than when he first appeared since he still held the high ground. To compensate, Saber shifted her focus to simply countering Assassin's moves rather than on a straight assault. Worse for her effectiveness, Shirou's discomfort was distracting. It was difficult to keep her mind completely on the battle with her Master's horror-induced fugue constantly attempting to draw her attention.

Narrowing his blue eyes, Assassin growled lowly. "Get it through your head, Saber! This battle is not one you can win without your absolute best!" Assassin took a moment to master his emotions before speaking again, his tone one of forced calm, the almost unnatural fury still smoldering behind that mask. "I had hoped you would show me the full extent of your power by now, but it appears you are still too arrogant. Very well, I'll show you my own technique first."

The masked Servant glared balefully through the mask's eyehole while turning his back on the Knight of the Sword. One eye remained trained on her while he lifted his sword so that the blade was parallel to the ground, the edge facing the sky and flat of the blade facing Saber, reflecting the moonlight along its length.

From his perch up in a tree a few yards ahead of the two Masters, Archer fought the urge to blink, something he hadn't done since the fight started. In a duel this intense with this level of skill involved, the slightest gap in focus would result in him missing that one instant where Assassin's guard was down. Right now, Archer doubted he would be able to call upon any of his stronger weapons before Assassin found him and took his head, so he opted to hold steady for the best possible instant to attack. Even though the Assassin could not possibly see him from his position in that strange new stance, Archer still saw no openings. And thus he waited, bow in hand. One way or another Assassin had to die.

"Prepare yourself, Saber. If you aren't ready, you d**i**e," Assassin's voice carried a new note to it, one of pure, unrestrained malice. Everyone who could hear him instantly reacted. Instinct, experience, spiritual sensitivity, all those with the power to feel the flow of battle couldn't help but agree with his words as the absolute truth. Saber's combat instincts screamed at her, and she obeyed them, lunging forward with all of her speed to cancel whatever attack he might be planning to execute.

Too late.

"Secret Technique… _Tsubame Gaeshi_," with a fierce shout, the masked Servant's blade shot around in an arc at overwhelming speed a magnitude greater than any of his previous blows, so fast it cut the sound barrier! Saber could barely block the incoming swing as it came down towards her collarbone, the invisible blade only just quick enough to stop the attack. However, it's still not enough to break through into the opening even though the blow came at Assassin's full strength. Saber's body barely managed to react to the second strike, the arcing nodachi somehow still pushing on her blade while another shrieked towards her lower torso. Saber tried to push herself away from the blow, instinctively knowing that she was in mortal danger.

She _still_ wasn't fast enough. "_HANEIGOKU_!" Assassin thundered when his blade was almost evaded. Suddenly, the world almost appeared to rewind and a cruel mirror replayed Assassin's attack from opposite directions. The previous swings reversed themselves, entrapping Saber in a ring of impossible slashes! The armor that so far held its shape even against the monstrous blows of Berserker shattered from the impacts, her cuirass seeming to explode from her small frame while the gauntlet shielding her sword arm was sliced into quarters, metal shards slashing her smooth skin and staining her blue and white dress with her blood in places.

She tumbled and crashed heavily onto the lower landing amidst a field of magically materialized metal before the fragments faded away. With a pained hiss, Saber pulled herself up on her hands and knees. The cuts were mostly superficial, but that technique had completely overwhelmed her defenses, straining her small body to its limits. She was given no time to even regain her breath when she looked up into Assassin's masked visage with his blade held high, the Monohoshizao shrieking towards her skull. "Your li**fe** **is mine,** **SABER!**" His voice began to reverberate unnaturally, gaining a guttural echo behind it while his tone carried a volcanic fury. For an instant, a thrill of fear ran through Saber's spine at the seemingly possessed man above her. His eyes had taken on an unnatural blue glow, and his left eye's sclera had warped to an inky black.

"SABER!" Shirou screamed while Rin completely lost her composure at the demonic swordsman's invincible technique, her legs shaking uncontrollably.

"Dammit!" the red knight hissed, firing an arrow at almost supersonic speed towards Assassin's skull despite the fact that Assassin still had enough awareness to see it coming. The indigo-clad Servant's supercharged reflexes saved his skull from being pierced through his ear, but even then just barely. With an audible "crack!" the masked warrior's head whipped back from the impact of the arrow deflecting off into the trees against the bony accessory. The attack may not have done any damage, but it did save Saber's life by throwing him off course.

Assassin staggered for a second when the mask was knocked out of alignment, his eyes refocusing on Archer's general direction just in time for a barrage of white bolts of light to lance towards him from the Knight of the Bow. Only Saber saw it, but Assassin's black eye had reverted to normal the instant the arrow struck. '_Was I hallucinating?_' she wondered while Assassin nimbly evaded the arrows, though with far less speed than he had shown mere seconds before. He was sweating now, and his motions were far more minimalistic. His combat presence also faded away, regaining its former transparence as if signaling the end of his demonic possession, and now he was paying the price for using its unnatural power.

Speaking of which, Assassin tore the misaligned mask from his face and clutched it tightly, its wearer's lips tightened into a thin line. Cutting another few arrows from the air in defiance, Assassin almost desperately tried to hop back up the steps, carefully retreating beneath the withering barrage until his body began to fade away. Archer swore; he'd lost his chance to finish off the deceptively powerful monster. "He's gone."

Shirou, whose body still was crippled by the shakes, managed to take a few breaths. "S-Saber? Are you alright?"

The blue-clad Servant slowly stood up. "I'm alright for the moment, but that… that was something that should not exist in this world," she replied lowly, her voice clear in the suddenly dead silent woods. There was no hiding her frustration though, not after being so thoroughly bested in the area her spirit most prided itself in. She took a moment to regain her center before finally facing her Master. "What shall we do now, Shirou?"

Rin spoke for him, the boy obviously exhausted and of one mind with her on the subject right now. "Let's fall back. We'll check the Code for what kind of thing that mask of his was and then get some rest. I hate to admit it, but we can't possibly keep going anymore tonight." Seeing that her partner was finally regaining control of his body, she helped him upright and turned back towards the base of the mountain. "Archer, cover us. I don't want any more surprises on the way back."

"Yes Master," the Servant replied flatly, his bow still in hand. '_What the hell is going on?_'

* * *

On the other side of the gate Shirou and his allies were retreating from, Assassin rematerialized at his Master's command. The shorter woman's face, hidden by her cowl, still displayed that her lips were starting to curve up into a smile that grew wider and wider… "It… It worked," she breathed while Assassin took a slow breath to recover.

Using that _thing_ he'd once more stowed in his _kateginu_ had greedily drunk away a large amount of his magical energy. It was only the fact that Caster saw fit to grant him extra magical energy in anticipation for this that he was moving at all.

The moment the haze of rage and bloodlust lifted from his mind with the mask's dislodging, he'd torn it from his face lest the madness sleeping within it reassert its hold. The sheer malice that had infected his mind with went beyond mere anger or even battle mania. It was _evil_ and he was tempted to destroy the thing even against his Master's wishes. If only she wasn't able to simply create another, he might have anyway. The mask was an abomination and needed to-

"…It worked! I can't believe it worked! I'm a genius!" Caster nearly shouted, her expression positively _glowing_ in joy while she started fidgeting and pacing. It was rather jarring to the false hero. Even when pleased, Caster always held her reserve, her tender side apparently reserved for her Master exclusively. Now she was practically _giddy_.

"I knew that the mask pulled some primal energy out, but so much! Everything increased: speed, power, reflexes! You even created a _Dimensional Refraction Phenomenon_ with nothing but skill and a sword with the mask! This is unbelievable!" she almost _squealed_ in delight.

Very few things disturbed Assassin more.

"Actually, the _Tsubame Gaeshi_ was my own technique. I only had the footing for the incomplete version, though I would be lying if I said the… mask… didn't help. The additional strikes beyond the first two were added on the spot with its aid."

Caster was no swordsman and had only a modicum of appreciation for such things, but right now, she was so excited that she latched on to the explanation. "You bested the Saber, the greatest of the Servant classes, with an incomplete technique?"

Assassin nodded slowly. "The _Tsubame Gaeshi_ is supposed to have a third vertical slash to close off the escape route. I couldn't use it due to my improper footing, but… the mask bolstered my abilities so much I was able to turn the technique back on itself like a reflection in a mirror, hence _Tsubame Gaeshi: Haneigoku_ (Swallow Reversal: Reverse Reflection Hell)."

"You managed to take advantage of the refraction and resumed your original stance by reversing your strikes while the phenomenon was still in effect? Brilliant! This is so incredible! I can't believe how powerful the mask is, and it's just a proof of concept!"

Shuddering a bit at the implication, Assassin had more than a few choice words in his mind about the hateful thing, but in Caster's current mood, trying to reason with her might do more harm than good. The worst part was that the madness the thing had affected him with didn't come from the mask itself, but it acted more like it was dragging up every hateful thought, emotion and impulse he carried within him. Such a manipulation was the worst kind of evil.

The woman continued to pace, her lips moving almost as fast as when she was using her High-Speed Divine Words as she babbled out praises to her own genius and amazement at the artifact she had crafted. "Master, I feel there might be a small problem."

"-and then I'll need to try grafting the mask to my _Dragon T_- wait, what problem?" It took a moment for Caster to stop scheming and register Assassin's warning. Her hidden eyes were no doubt filled with barely-restrained annoyance at his words breaking her momentum.

"While wearing the mask, it appeared to be trying to exert an influence akin to the Mad Enhancement skill, eroding my sanity. It is not something to be hailed for its power, but loathed for its inherent madness. It's too dangerous to use," he stated, his tone belying the intensity of the loathing he felt for the bone construct in his coat. He could only pray that Caster took it back and scrapped it.

Caster's smile resembled an amused parent about to explain something to a very small child. "As I said, this is but a proof of concept. From what I've seen, it merely increases one's desire to kill; useful in its own right when properly harnessed. I'm already looking into a way to control it, but for now keep the mask and return to the gate. Consider its power a reward for your skillful victory," she told him magnanimously as she turned back towards her Temple for further analysis. She was practically humming to herself at how well things had gone for her.

Assassin sorely, _sorely_ wanted to cut her down before she unleashed something beyond her power to control, but… he was a Servant bound to her will, and the slightest step out of line would equate to another Command Spell or worse from the deceitful beauty. Maybe she would be more willing to heed his words after she had some time to calm down.

And while he was waiting for _that_, he'd keep his eyes peeled for aerial acrobatics practice from the local pig population.


	14. Hollow Whispers in the Dark: Part I

A/N: Yo! It's been a while, hasn't it? No excuses for this one being so late in coming, but I finally finished this monster of a chapter! I felt like I was dying at my keyboard at several points (My muse apparently took a holiday break). On the plus side, this is easily my longest chapter to date!

I'm actually a little stunned that it's been over a year since I started this thing. I knew this story was rather ambitious for my first work, but DAMN.

As always, a hearty thanks to everyone who reads this thing and leaves me comments, faves, reviews, suggestions and questions. You know who you are, and you're all awesome.

And now, on with the show!

_Hollow Whispers in the Dark: Part I_

Rider and Uryu stared into the woods that made up the southeastern border of Fuyuki City. The trees loomed forebodingly, their deep shadows mingling together under the perpetual shade of the evergreen needles creating an almost solid wall of blackness. The effect was frightening enough on its own to ward off normal people, but it was actually worse for spiritually sensitive individuals, as the air reeked of malignant energies.

Uryu half-expected a Gillian-class menos to let out its distinct moaning roar any second. It was definitely close enough in feel to Hueco Mundo for Hollows to nest in there without feeling too far from home. Silently, their attention mostly focused on the woods before them, Uryu and Rider walked along the edge of the woods in search of a trail of some kind. Even a simple bike trail would work for this quick scouting run.

Rider's voice almost startled him after such a long time without a word. Ever since she gave her "advice" not to be in front of her in combat, she had gone silent, and Uryu could almost feel her displeasure. "Are you skilled enough to speak while sensing for anomalies?"

Quincy pride flared, but Uryu managed to keep from sounding petulant. "Yes. Sensing is as unconscious and essential as walking and breathing to a Quincy."

The Servant simply nodded. "I have been meaning to ask exactly how you met my Master. From what I have discerned you have little in common with him save your drive to protect wayward souls from Hollows."

"Is now really the best time?" Uryu responded with the barest hints of exasperation. "None of us have any real secrets to hide regarding our friendships since you are aware of our spiritual duties, so there is no need to keep your questions private. We can discuss it at the penthouse if you must."

"I see," was all Rider said and she let the matter drop, and took up another, more immediate topic. "There is a Boundary Field here."

The last Quincy nodded. "I detected as much, but I am regrettably unused to determining the specifics of them. Anything you can offer?"

"I am not a magus, so I can only tell so much. I can say that the scale involved for this field is immense. I can't even begin to estimate."

Again, Uryu couldn't help but be impressed. Say what you would about the difference in raw power between magi and his spiritually aware friends, Masters were definitely clever. This barrier was likely some kind of concealment spell to hide their base of operations. It was surprisingly well-designed, with only the slightest, regular pulses of energy making it stand out from the environment, and even then only just. Its border was fuzzy, so he stepped forward cautiously to try and make sense of the aura, when Rider's voice jolted him out of his thoughts.

"Stop," she nearly commanded, her silken voice carrying a sharp warning that almost froze Uryu completely. He managed to turn to her without advancing any closer to the tree line, an eyebrow raised questioningly. "You were about to step into the field."

Turning back to the trees, the Quincy refocused his awareness in curiosity and he noticed, somewhat embarrassed that he missed it the first time, the regular emanations from the field didn't pass beyond a kind of invisible wall. Rather than radiate its power outward, the Boundary Field's energy was so tightly contained that any energy Uryu felt was _inside_ the field, so getting any closer would put him at the mercy of a prepared magus in their personal domain without any useful knowledge on his potential enemy.

Not exactly a good position for the Quincy to be in.

"Can you break into it without activating it?" he asked, recalling Rider's entry in that strange book labeling her as having "Magic Resistance" while researching the Servants encountered so far.

"Not without alerting the creator of our intrusion. I could easily break through it and likely leave a hole in it for you to pass through safely, but there would be no possible chance at stealth."

Uryu managed to keep a sigh of annoyance from escaping him, glaring almost accusingly at the forest. He turned his full attention to the energy swirling within the barrier at regular intervals. The bespectacled warrior attempted to memorize the energy pattern, hoping to match it against any future uses of magic and better respond to each individual magus.

The Quincy pulled his phone out and strode away from the forest edge, Rider tracking him momentarily before finally following him. With a quick flick of his fingers he dialed the resident specialist in dealing with magic and barriers. He didn't need to wait long before the only official Soul Reaper he could say he respected to pick up (animosity with Soul Reapers aside, he considered Renji too much of a reckless idiot, and Ichigo wasn't an "official" Soul Reaper anyway). "Kuchiki-san, I'm at the woods, and there is definitely someone or something related to the magi hiding in there."

* * *

On the far side of the bridge, the Soul Reaper on the other end nodded. "Here too. Ichigo and I found another barrier inside the park where he encountered Berserker the other night, but this one's strange. It's inactive, and seems to have gathered all of the leftover spirit energy from the fight and trapped it somehow and kept it from dissipating." Rukia's original plan was to hunt for the magi further to the northwest, but on their way from the bridge, a concentrated mote of spiritual light drew their attention and she had stopped with Ichigo to inspect what looked like a magus's work.

Sure enough, a thin line of pulsing blue light formed a massive ring before her. The fact that its light was so faint and the energy so subtle even to their spiritually attuned senses spoke volumes on how well it was hidden from the public. Rukia stood at the very edge of the barrier with Ichigo off to her side, his face set with a perplexed frown while he kept his eyes locked on the ball of floating energy in the center. It resembled a floating sphere of seawater, its surface perpetually rippling and stirring of its own accord. This combined with the blue-white light shining out from within the sphere's core reminded the deputy Soul Reaper of some of the underwater pictures in the occasional nature program he sometimes had ended up watching when he was younger.

Either way, the barrier was taking advantage of the remnants of his spiritual pressure and keeping it focused in this location, and that could _not_ bode well.

"The problem is that this much spirit energy in one place, sitting idle for so long…" Rukia left that thought hanging for the Quincy on the other end. A moment later she spoke again to Uryu's own assessment of his situation "Of course. If you can't break through now, you might want to consider heading back to the hotel." A moment of quiet as she listened to her friend passed. "Alright. I'll talk to you later. If you find anything, call us," she said before hanging up. "Rider and Ishida found the source of the negative energy: the whole forest is encased in a barrier, albeit a different kind from this one."

Ichigo grunted in acknowledgment before looking down at his diminutive friend. "Another one, huh? They learn anything?"

The girl at his side shook her head ruefully. "Less than we have with this one, I'm afraid. They're going to look for a safe location to pass through the field for a little longer before heading back." Rukia replied, crouching to place the tips of her fingers against the line that marked the barrier's perimeter.

"I'm really beginning to hate these magi people. Just throw the Servants at us and get this whole mess over with," Ichigo groused, scanning the field for any sign of animals watching. If there were any, he'd flip them the bird on the off-chance it was a magus's familiar trying to watch them. That would give them a good scare.

"It's just good strategy. Not everyone is insane enough to throw themselves at a foe in a superior position when there is already a disadvantage in power," Rukia reminded him with a slight smile while continuing to feel the circulation of energy, trying to separate Ichigo's energy from the culprit's spiritual pressure.

"Yeah, I guess. Still irritates me having to jump through hoops to even find them when I was more expecting a more violent free-for-all."

The two Soul Reapers remained in the park, carefully inspecting anything that might offer clues to the barrier's purpose or creator, unaware that a set of burgundy eyes was tracking them from two blocks away. Bazett had taken to the streets after sunset, the _omamori_ charm tucked into her breast pocket and several of her magus-hunting magics in place: runes for enhancing sight and hearing, Reinforcement magic circulating through her body, and a complex array that concealed her magical energy from detection.

Many magi trained themselves to detect magic in use, and magus hunters therefore focused at least some of their training into countering this ability with a kind of magical camouflage. Bazett herself benefited well from her use of rune magic in this area as the runes often localized her magical energy into specific points on her body, so if she concealed her runes, her own energies appeared negligible.

Sitting on a bench next to a closed snack vendor, Bazett focused her enhanced eyes and ears on the two black-robed figures milling about the park, her chin resting on her interlaced hands. "Looks like Kurosaki is the same as Kuchiki, then," she murmured, puzzling over their relationship; their trust and familiarity with each other was plainly evident. _'Master and apprentice?'_

She tried to ignore the sensation of power coming from them in favor of studying their behavior. From this distance, she couldn't feel any specifics aside from getting a disturbing sensation of gravity pushing on her harder than it should, like the robed swordsmen couldn't handle the weight of their power and thus spread it out over an area. One thing was for sure though: Ichigo had far more raw power than Rukia. His presence practically overwhelmed the chill bite Bazett had come to instinctively associate with the Kuchiki girl's aura. She briefly contemplated if these sensations were clues into the nature of the black-robed girl's magic. If so, this newfound aura sense would become an enormous boon during her work for the Association.

So far, the two of them hadn't done much aside from inspecting a Boundary Field with an almost professional poise, Ichigo keeping watch with a stern frown in the immediate area while Rukia kept just out of the field, occasionally crouching and putting her hand to its border contemplatively. So far, the small girl's attempts to puzzle out the Boundary Field's function had met with little success.

Bazett was used to long surveillance, but she didn't exactly find it thrilling so it was rather easy to be mildly distracted by a new building sensation in the air: a scratching, like nails on a chalkboard resounding from all around her. Even though she was pretty comfortable on the physical level, something was making her feel increasingly cold, and not in the same manner as Rukia's presence did. This… this felt _wrong_, somehow. She was so far away from the field, but every instinct in her was screaming to run and hide, something that she had been doing far more of lately than she liked.

Burgundy eyes flicked left and right of the park for any sign of the disturbance, but so far, nothing seemed out of the ordinary…

Wait…

The sky looked… cracked? A small, hairline fracture snaked through the space over the teens' heads, like fragile, painted glass… How… was that possible?

Ichigo and Rukia both looked up and seemed just as startled as the Enforcer was; they hopped back and placed their hands on their swords, though the orange-haired warrior sounded more annoyed than anything else. "What the hell's going on?"

Something in Rukia's pocket released a pinging sound and she pulled out what looked like a phone, glancing at it for a second before her eyes widened sharply. "This is bad... Ichigo, it's a _Menos Grande_. Just a Gillian thankfully, but its entry point is still too close to people here. We'll need to purify it before it takes a step. Its spiritual pressure alone will probably affect anyone near it." Despite her calm tone, the girl's posture shifted to one of great tension.

The fire-haired teen with her bristled, his shoulders tensing. "That does it! Magi or whatever, whoever set this up is going to get the same treatment Grimmjow gave me when we first fought," Ichigo growled, watching the black crack with a scowl.

The feeling of dark wrongness intensified when an unnatural scream, a moaning howl sounded throughout the park.

Within seconds the evil feeling almost overwhelmed Bazett at the sight of the crack buckling, space folding and curling like cloth before five massive, pure white fingers jutted from the crack, each digit tipped with claw-like nails large enough to park a full-size pickup truck on them. The fingers pulled sharply outwards, tearing a rift in the sky with no more effort than parting a curtain, accompanied by the sound of grinding wood mixed with an overly loud hiss of rubbing sandpaper together. Beyond the hole was an inky, swirling blackness. A solid mass of it appeared to peel out into the world, becoming a massive form towering over the park and all of the buildings near it.

The monster was eight stories tall… no, it had to much larger than that. Its pale arms vanished into the inky black shroud that made up almost the entirety of its immense form; only its enormous feet, the bony hands holding open the veil between this world and whatever black hell such a nightmare came from, a ring of bone spikes jutting out from its body like a collar, and its face were visible against the ragged black cloak it wrapped itself in.

'_That… that face!'_ Bazett's heart almost stopped in shock at the horrifying vision looming before her.

If she was shown an image of this _monstrosity_ a week ago she would have labeled it as ridiculous or even silly, but after fleeing from a hunting "_noh-men"_ and understanding how dangerous and malevolent they were, she couldn't keep a shudder of horror from crawling down her spine at the sight of its massive bone mask.

Its wide, staring eyes burned with an inner malice devoid of consciousness or intellect, and its flat face was only broken by a long, conical nose that jutted straight out over its wide, flat-toothed maw. A gaping hole was shorn in its shroud as if its heart had been carved out.

"Ichigo! Move!" Rukia shouted from down by the creature's ankle, hopping nearly twenty feet away from the perimeter of the Boundary Field which had suddenly pulsed to life, Bazett's viewpoint preventing her from discerning its purpose and style of magic. Responding instantly to her shout, Ichigo jumped back as well, his head tilted back to glare at the monster before him fearlessly.

Bazett thought she heard him say something, but her ears sharply buzzed with the intense crackle of releasing magical energy.

The whole array exploded into light, a translucent membrane of purple energy shooting high into the night sky and completely encircling the emerged shadow-beast. It attempted to step forward, only for the barrier to flash brighter for a second, repelling the creature back into the center of the field.

Angered by the Boundary Field's repulsion, the monster _roared_. The sound was a deep, moaning howl so loud that it felt like a physical blow, a scream of agony, a scream of rage, a scream of the damned. The unnatural sound dredged up memories of some of the victims of some of the magi she had slain, their lives twisted by agony and despair.

Something like that black-clad monstrosity shouldn't exist, Bazett vaguely thought while trying not to let the horrid sound scratch apart her already fraying composure.

Ichigo was most definitely _not_ happy with this development. Some idiot was using _his_ spirit energy as Hollow bait! Worse, his power was so damn dense that it still attracted _**Menos**_ after having almost two days to sit in one spot because some loony thought it would be a good idea to not let it escape into the air! And true to form, a _Menos_ had honed in on it and tore its way out from Hueco Mundo. "Alright you ugly bastard, let's get this-" he stopped mid-sentence when the creature's attempt to leave the barrier was repulsed by a towering encirclement of purple light.

With a mental shrug (after all, who was _he_ to question someone keeping the _Menos_ from wreaking havoc?), the deputy Soul Reaper gripped Zangetsu and allowed the cloth wrap to fall away from its massive blade and bent his knees for a flying leap to the monster's masked face.

His dramatic assault stopped before it even started, as the Gillian's roar faded away and another surge of purple light erupted in a complex array beneath the Hollow's feet. The field flared with an alien spiritual pressure before it ripped the Gillian from the park, the creature fading from sight as if an illusion, taking the circular energy barrier with it. If it weren't for the lingering spiritual pressure that was already fading, they'd assume the whole thing was just a projection conjured to draw them here.

* * *

Several miles off, Archer, Shirou and Saber all stopped in mid-stride, their eyes widening as a wave of undirected, almost palpable malevolence hit their spiritually aware ears in the dread howl of some unseen horror. They had barely stepped away from the mountain back into the city when the "sound" reached them.

Rin turned when the cadence of armored boots and scuffing sneakers ceased. "Hey, why'd you stop?" she asked, mildly perturbed by Shirou's apparent paralysis, his body wracked by the occasional tremble while the two Servants had turned their full attention eastward. By now, Saber had healed the cuts Assassin's furious assault had given her but she hadn't reconstituted her armor, leaving the proud warrior looking far smaller, almost diminished in just her blue and white dress. "What's wrong?" Rin tried again, her voice lower and more commanding.

Stolidly, Archer barked out a short command: "Stay here" and jumped to the top of a nearby telephone pole steel gray eyes narrowed while focusing intently deeper into the city. What he saw out there had him drawing his bow almost reflexively.

In the distance, the sky was being torn open by massive bony claws.

Slowly a mass of congealed blackness forced its way out from the tear in the firmament and into the dimly illuminated space, widening with the sound of tearing cloth mixed with the rush of displaced air. More and more of the ghastly figure, a titan of shadows, emerged out of the aperture dividing the night air, partially concealed by distance and the buildings between him and the park.

Prior to his summons as a Servant, Archer had occasionally fought monsters conjured by his targets, and this black mass of condensed malice reminded him too much of such creatures.

Of course, nothing he had ever encountered resembled the towering creature out there, in both scale and shape. Whatever it was, the black beast appeared without any warning or clue, not even a build-up of prana to indicate a summoning. The monster's very appearance marked it as something beyond his experience: he had never seen a creature rip a hole in the sky to manifest.

With his enhanced eyesight, the thing's black cloak undulated with unnatural shadows, its face concealed from view. Most ominously, a single hole large enough for a bullet train to pass through ran clear through the towering monster's center. Occasionally, the monster would turn very slightly, allowing him glimpses of a white plate like a mask over the front of the black shroud.

The warrior knew from just a glance that such a horror could and would wreak havoc on everyone around it. He had little space to take a stable stance, but he was more than ready to take one shot to kill the monster before it moved into the city. Disillusioned or not, he couldn't exactly just let it tear apart the city without a fight. "Master, do I have permission to take the shot?"

Rin had no idea what the hell was going on, but she felt strangely uneasy, her mystic senses giving her conflicting signals with her natural instincts. Frankly, she couldn't feel anything out there, but something niggled at the back of her mind. Some kind of unnerving feeling of dread, but it was so distant she could have ignored it. If she were alone with Archer, she might have. However, with all of her allies equally aware of something dangerous, the Tohsaka magus nodded. "If you can make the shot, take it. Don't burn energy needlessly."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he replied shortly. In a slow chant barely above a whisper, his voice resonated through the air with but one sentence. "_I am the bone of my sword._" Instantly, a sword resembling a spiraling lance of silver and blue steel trimmed with gold appeared in his free hand. The Fake Spiral Sword, Caladbolg II, carried within it immense destructive potential and was surprisingly economical about it. The weapon was an aerodynamically modified version of the original sword that bore its name: an Irish weapon wielded by Fergus mac Roich, supposedly able to slice off hilltops and slay entire hosts of troops in each mighty pass. Despite that, Archer wasn't willing to take _any_ chances after the earlier fiasco with Assassin.

Archer drew his bow with its peculiar projectile, lining up the shot carefully. He pointedly ignored the second howling roar the monster released as a flare of purple light attempted to keep the beast contained. He'd need to fire this just right or the Broken Phantasm might do more damage than the monster would. He'd only dare take one shot, and only Break the sword when he was sure the arrow-sword would hit.

Back in the street, Saber eyed the eastern direction coldly. Whatever was making that abominable howling needed to be destroyed, but first she needed to see to Shirou's safety. The young man was still shaken from the encounter with Assassin, and facing whatever could put that much negativity into the air so as to be felt from this far away would probably drive him mad. Turning to him, she noted that Shirou was shaking, but his spirit refused to give in to the fear; he was doing an admirable job. "Shirou. What are your orders?"

The young magus could barely think, but he needed to be sure that Saber was alright, and then he needed to get back to the estate and recover. He wasn't about to let Saber charge off against whatever was filling the air with so much negativity. Saber wanted his orders though. What kind of order could he possibly give in this situation aside from variations of running for safety? Shirou took a shuddering breath and managed to ask, "What is that? What am I feeling?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "I am guessing that the Caster summoned a demon of some kind."

"A demon?" both Rin and Shirou almost yelped.

And then the strangest thing happened: the presence and the black demon simply winked out of existence. Archer hadn't blinked, but the purple barrier flared once more and when it faded, the monster was gone, its presence simply disappearing like a projector being turned off.

"What the…" came out of both Shirou and Archer's mouths in perfect sync.

* * *

On the other side of the river, Uryu's spiritual awareness told him of an unmistakable presence: Gillians had enormous power, but neither the subtlety nor the intelligence to conceal or focus it effectively. Even from this distance, he could feel the presence, especially with Rider still drinking up Ichigo's normally overpowering excess energy. As it stood, the Gillian's rampant spiritual pressure flooded his senses, drowning out the partially concealed signature of Rukia. The white warrior glanced back towards the west and was slightly surprised to note that Rider was doing the same. "Rider-san, are you capable of sensing Hollows at this range?"

"No," Rider replied simply. "However, I can pick up traces of my Master's mental state and condition through our contract. Whatever has appeared near him has him agitated, but he's not afraid for his own safety."

"So if Kurosaki senses or encounters an enemy, you are vaguely aware of it and how much of a threat Kurosaki feels it is. Useful," the Quincy commented, his spiritual senses tuned to their utmost to track the ominous signature.

"A necessity. Under most circumstances the Master is the most vulnerable target."

With a slight hum of acknowledgment, Uryu waited for the Gillian's spiritual pressure to vanish beneath Ichigo's inevitable attack. He certainly wasn't expecting a towering column of faint purple light to shoot into the sky and take the oversized Hollow with it when it faded. "…That was neither Kuchiki nor Kurosaki…" he muttered to himself.

Rider said nothing, fully aware of that fact. If she was a betting woman, she'd place her money on a Master's involvement.

* * *

Deep within those pitch black woods the Quincy and the Servant left behind stood the castle the Einzbern Master and her enormous Servant dwelled in. Ilya normally would be either hunting for victims-er- Masters, or sleeping at this time of night. Tonight she had indulged in the latter when a spike of pain had shot through her head. Oh, it wasn't real pain, just a slight pinch that carried with it the message that one of her familiars was dead. Still, the sensation was almost guaranteed to wake her up.

With her blissful rest interrupted, the magus had sat up and groggily sifted through the senses of her remaining armada of eyes and ears. She eventually found that the one she had lost was the bird watching the park where Berry-Onii-chan had fought Berserker two nights previous. Sifting through its last memories revealed that the fire-haired swordsman was with a short girl with a similar garb: perhaps an apprentice? The memories cut off with a smothering black shadow that appeared almost right on top of the bird and filled it with such overriding dread that its heart stopped.

Shifting her focus to another familiar's perspective further away showed her what had appeared minutes ago: a black and white giant with a silly white mask but a malignant aura so intense it had almost killed that familiar as well. It looked like Onii-chan was moving to prevent the monster from wreaking havoc before it vanished to their confusion.

Ilya's lips pursed irritably, her mind waking back up to nearly full efficiency as she tried to make sense of the ghostly behemoth that had manifested in the park before a massive purple glow whisked it away. Her familiars might have excellent natural senses surpassing a human's but they lacked the ability to sense specific energies. Still, the bird showed her that someone out there was messing with forces too great and dangerous to be ignored.

Truth be told, Ilya couldn't feel anything from the monster at this distance, and most of her assumptions was based on the nature of its appearance. The way reality cracked and tore apart in its presence. The way her familiar simply dropped dead from what could be best described as fear so deep that being forced to remain in its presence killed it. If someone was trying to summon and harness such beasts, she had to figure out who it was and kill them before they did something stupid, like let one of those giants run amuck in public.

It would be rather annoying for the existence of magic to be revealed through a phantasmal beast's rampage, after all.

With an aggrieved sigh, Ilya slipped out of bed and rubbed the sleep from one of her crimson eyes before opening her _very_ large closet to get changed. At the very least, she could make some time to take a look at that field in greater detail.

"Berserker, we're going," she called to the seemingly empty air, feeling the massive presence settle behind her, the astralized Servant filling her with a sense of invincibility only Berry-Onii-chan could disrupt.

* * *

In her lab, Caster forced herself to calm down while eyeing the slightly shaking vial that held the massive Hollow trapped. After the emotional high of seeing that her carefully constructed mask worked, capturing a particularly large Hollow wasn't worth getting giddy over. The mask she had made was a clay medium made of equal parts physical and spiritual components including parts of the masks from all of her captured Hollows. At the moment she wasn't sure how she could use the new beast's power without flattening her base of operations.

The black giant's massive strength had completely burned out her Boundary Field trying to capture and hold it, but it had worked in the end. A shame, given that the trap it had used was far and away her most powerful. That park carried a staggering amount of raw energy which when combined with her cunning recycling of energy should have been able to capture somewhere in the neighborhood of five hundred Hollows, assuming she had enough vials to contain them all.

The average Hollow trap, a modified Boundary Field attuned to hold human ghosts from Hades during her lifetime in Greece, could hold up to ten souls or their equivalent. So far this was about average for a Hollow, but the one in the park could probably contain roughly forty times that (give or take) thanks to how much energy the orange-haired Master used when he fought Berserker. The fact that this one creature, its power so vast as to completely drain that trap's energy dry to hold it back, was now at her disposal required more caution than ever before. Preparations needed to be made and tools constructed to handle the monster's enormous size. Perhaps a Boundary Field to materialize only parts of the Hollow would work…

With a little luck and a lot of skill she'd find a way to control that power, even if she had to work through the next few nights straight to unravel a method to do so.

* * *

"What was that? Where'd it go? I can't sense it," Ichigo called over to his raven-haired companion, who was even more perplexed than he was.

"Hell if I know. Maybe it was destroyed somehow? But what I do know is that we need to rally at the penthouse, pronto. With a Gillian coming through, we'll be in for a repeat one of Karakura's worse days. Hollows are going to start coming through in its wake to investigate whatever they think it left behind. We need to move," Rukia stated calmly, her commanding, calm tone belying the urgency she felt.

"What about the damn Gillian? If it's not here, where could it be? Things that powerful don't just vanish without going _somewhere,_" Ichigo growled.

"We can't deal with that right now; if we could still sense it, I'd be right behind you in tracking it down and purifying it if it wasn't already destroyed. As it stands though we can't and if we don't prepare for it we won't be able to stop all of the Hollows before the civilian casualties start mounting."

"Yeah," the boy conceded almost glumly, his scowl hardening further. "How long do you think we have before the Hollows start appearing?"

"Likely a couple hours, three tops before they start coming through. We'll probably need to sleep in shifts over the next twelve hours or so."

Ichigo tsked in annoyance, Zangetsu once more coiling into its cloth and resting at his back. "I'll call Ishida."

With a nod and a long-practiced keystroke on her own phone, Rukia leapt up towards the power lines and hopped along them towards the bridge, already waiting for Orihime to pick up the line. Ichigo simply jumped into the air and mindlessly created pads of spirit particles under his feet, giving an invisible foothold wherever he placed his sandals. Reaching into his _uwagi_, Ichigo pulled out his phone, quietly pleased that Urahara had modified the thing into a Soul Pager, thus letting him carry it around even outside his body like Rukia usually did.

A few blocks away, they unwittingly left a stupefied Bazett silently gawking at the insanity she had just witnessed. From what she saw, that enormous monster only brought concern to Ichigo and Rukia due to the danger it posed to the normal people sleeping in their homes, and not of the demonic _thing 's_ power or presence compared to their own. Such concern for civilians put them tentatively in the category of "benign," or they at least were more concerned with keeping the public safe rather than wreaking havoc.

Then there was that display of inhuman ability at the end. Rukia's leap was impressive enough, but far from impossible for Bazett or other trained magi. What really brought her up short was Ichigo Kurosaki's display of running on air. Even the most powerful magi would have serious issues mimicking that feat without a long prep time.

The orange-haired teen made it look as natural and casual was walking down the damn street!

At their pace, there was little chance she could catch them either. Bazett stood up and started walking with carefully crafted casualness back towards the bridge. Her first order of business was to get back to her hotel and shore up her defenses. If what Rukia and Ichigo said was true, she would have to put herself behind a few Boundary Fields for the next day lest any of these evil spirits noticed her over the concealing power of the _omamori_ charm in her pocket.

Between ensuring her own survival, figuring out what the story was with these teens in the Holy Grail War and finding out what happened to Lancer, the young woman had her hands full. Either way, she had no intention of letting herself be caught off-guard again. One near-death experience in a shed was quite enough for her tastes.

What she needed was a way to fight these creatures, these "Hollows," assuming they were different from the _noh-men_ (perhaps they were the same thing?) to take the fight to them should she need to. Perhaps the priest in Ryuudou temple could offer advice, or she could find a spirit-harming rune combination.

* * *

Within twenty minutes, the entire team from Karakura and Rider had reconvened near the base of their hotel. They had all gotten the Cliff's Notes of what was going to happen within the next few hours over the phone, and to say the very, _very_ least, the group was _pissed_. Sure, dealing with a few at a time was fine, even feeling pretty good for the Soul Reapers, knowing they were sending tormented souls to a peaceful afterlife.

Dealing with scores of them all at once with the bestial spirits hunting any soul near them in a near-feeding frenzy? Not so much.

"Okay, this is karma. I just know it. I go and say 'I want to do something to help fight Hollows,' then _this_ crap happens!" Tatsuki railed furiously, nerves frayed to the limit.

Orihime offered her best friend a soft smile. "Calm down, Tatsuki-chan. We'll figure this out. We've done it before, and we're all much stronger now." With her bubbly nature, it was sometimes startling how calm and confident the auburn-haired girl could be in these kinds of situations.

"Indeed." The lone Quincy adjusted his glasses habitually before adding his own reassurance. "Due to the circumstances, none of the Hollows will be very strong: the _menos_-levels will stay in Hueco Mundo. We'll be dealing with the baser ones, the ones more instinctual rather than reasoning."

"Don't jinx us," Ichigo grumbled.

The eclectic gathering temporarily broke up there for Tatsuki, Chad and Orihime to enter and head back into the penthouse via elevator in order to appear normal, Ichigo and Rukia right alongside them thanks to their invisibility.

Rider and Uryu split off to find a concealed spot to begin their ascent rather than explain their strange clothing. Uryu constructed a pad of spirit particles and ascended the building in a series of empowered leaps. The Quincy could have simply ridden his pad of energy like an elevator, but the chances of being spotted and remembered were too high compared to the blur of motion his chosen method created.

For her part, Rider simply ran up the side of the wall at inhuman speed the moment she was out of public view.

Once safe and private in the walls of the penthouse, the group reassembled at the "war table" and traded information, as sparse as it was. What could be determined was that potentially anywhere Ichigo used his power might also have enough energy left behind for someone to make another barrier with a similar purpose.

"Could be worse; without Rider here I might have turned the whole city into Hollow bait by now, especially if some idiot used my energy for some weird barrier like we saw," Ichigo commented, drawing shudders from his compatriots.

Coughing awkwardly, Rukia shook her head. "Let's… not think about that. We have at least another hour before the first Hollows should come through. I don't know how long it'll last, but it shouldn't be longer than ten to twelve hours. It'll be constant fighting, so we'll need to arrange for us to sleep in shifts in case we draw too much attention. "

"Why bother? All-nighters aren't anything new," the deputy said.

"Maybe not for you, Strawberry. I still want to sleep sometime tonight," Tatsuki snorted. "How're we gonna split up?"

"Given the size of this city and that river, we'll need two teams. I can theoretically handle Shinto on my own, but consistently reaching Miyama is outside my limits," Uryu admitted. Standing on the roof of this hotel would give him an enormous panorama of the city, allowing him to lash out at Hollows almost instantly. "Each shift should last about six hours or so. Let's rendezvous here at around seven AM for the next shift."

"I'll help wherever I am asked for however long as I am needed. This is likely a part of the Holy Grail War as it is," Rider offered.

"Alright. I'll cover Miyama for the first shift then; it'll probably have the worst of the fighting," Ichigo added.

His Servant shook her head. "That might not be the wisest idea. If your power was the fuel for that Boundary Field, fighting during the most heated combat would only grant whoever abused it a greater amount to work with should they do it again. They will no doubt be watching for more of it for whatever purpose they might have in mind."

"Rider's right. Even if summoning a Gillian wasn't their intent, your power attracted an extremely powerful spirit without any prompting. Stay out of the limelight at least for a day," Rukia added.

Ichigo opened his mouth to object, but Chad beat him to it, his own subtle way of agreeing with the shorter Soul Reaper. "I'll help cover this side of the river." he said in his deep rumble. "Inoue should stay here for the first shift in case a Servant is still out there." With Ichigo here with her and Uryu guarding this side of the river along with Chad, their resident fate-spinner would be the safest soul in the city during the worst of the Hollow raids.

Orihime nodded resolutely. "Wake me up if you need me to come out and heal your wounds."

Again, the orange-haired warrior tried to say his piece, but his friends didn't let him get a word in, this time the Quincy. "Arisawa-san, the second shift should be a good time for you to get some field experience using your powers, but stay close to Inoue-san. Just don't overreach."

"About damn time!" the black-haired fist-fighter crowed. While fighting furiously against a potentially endless horde of Hollows wasn't exactly what she had in mind to start her spirit-fighting career, she felt oddly comfortable with the arrangement. It also showed how much faith Rukia was putting in her and tutoring she had received from Yoruichi for the last six weeks or so.

"Rider-san, how fast can you cross the bridge? We might need you to cover the areas we can't reach swiftly and as additional protection, but for the most part, that area should have heavy fighting, especially on the Miyama side. Between you and Kuchiki-san, you should be fine," Uryu asked, continuing the game of keeping Ichigo from speaking.

"I can cross fast enough. I'll stay near the bridge and move where I sense Hollows from there. I'll keep watch for both shifts."

"Both? Don't you need to sleep?" Tatsuki blurted out before Ichigo could do the same.

Rider shook her head "No."

"You've been awake the whole time since you appeared?" Orihime asked in awe.

"No. I don't need to sleep, but I still can," she clarified.

Everyone in the room went quiet at the information. That behavior was similar to a Hollow so it wasn't unheard of, but it was still so alien to think about never burning out or needing to rest.

In the interest of keeping the planning session moving, Uryu coughed into his fist. "…That works out quite well for us. Still, if you start feeling worn out, don't be afraid to let us know," Uryu commented.

Finally, Ichigo's shoulders loosened slightly. "Alright, alright, I can take a hint. I'll leave the first shift to you guys. Just call me if you need backup."

The rest of the Karakura veterans all smiled at that admission. "Of course. Get some rest and we'll take care of things," Rukia said warmly. While it was fun to cut him off like that over and over, she and the others knew that they had to keep things moving.

Leaving the group with a slight smirk of his own, Ichigo walked over to the couch where Kon was amusing himself in Ichigo's body; mostly by ogling Rider and Orihime's behinds. "Since I'm not going for now, I'm taking this back," he said and pulled out his badge.

Kon looked up at the body's owner and gave a scowl remarkably close to Ichigo's normal one. "Okay, this is getting ridiculous, Ichigo. Into the body, out of the body, into the body, out of the body, over and over again! Make up your dang mind!"

Ichigo simply raised an eyebrow. "You were the one who stowed away, Kon. Quit your whining."

"I'm serious, Ichigo! I get that I wasn't exactly expected, but now that I _am_ here, you oughta let me do something besides house-sit with Ms. Happy-Go-Crazy Rabbit!"

Ichigo sighed, knowing that the mod soul was both horrendously bored and looking for an excuse to joyride in his body…again… but he could understand the desire to get up and move around some. Kon had never left Karakura before, so it definitely made sense for him to get more antsy than usual. Nevertheless, "I'd rather not develop a reputation as a womanizing pervert while I'm here, thank you very much."

"Hey, that was one time!"

"Only because we never let you try it again," Ichigo shot back and smacked his badge against the possessed body, the pill popping out of the back of his corporeal form's head. Once he returned to his flesh and blood form, Ichigo picked up the pill and tossed it up and down a few times. "Seriously Kon, a lecher like you would never pass up the chance if you had it and we all know it." The boy slipped the green ball into the lion plushy's mouth and let the doll spring to life, the doll's naturally placid expression twisting into an angry sneer.

"It's not like _you'd_ ever try, ya prude! If you had your way, you'd have no social life at all!" Kon growled.

"If you had yours, my poor body would be mangled by angry women and/or their boyfriends on a daily basis! It isn't yours to begin with!"

While most of the Karakura veterans were used to Kon's banter to varying degrees, it was to Kon's seemingly endless misfortune that the latest two to the cadre, Tatsuki and Rider, were both rather adverse to his attitude. Of those two, Tatsuki's temper spelled trouble when she growled out "That's it!" and strode over to where Ichigo was arguing with the lion plushy. "Both of you **shut UP**!" she roared, her spiritual pressure instinctively flaring and resonating with her voice.

It was actually rather impressive. The combined effect of her aura and her voice silenced the entire room for a few seconds before the chastised teen and mod soul gave one more growl to the other and turned away with a huff. Those still at the table couldn't help but snicker at the whole event.

Satisfied that the two were done arguing for now, Tatsuki nodded sharply and smirked. "Alright I feel better. Hearing you two snap at each other gets grating after the first time, especially at a time like this. If you want to argue, do it back home."

Ichigo recovered and rolled his eyes. "I feel sorry for whoever ends up dating you, Tatsuki," the orange-haired swordsman snarked. Kon just conveniently cowered behind Ichigo's leg lest the tomboy bring down her fiery wrath down upon his squishy head.

"Shut up, Strawberry," Tatsuki replied with a grin. Oh, she was going to get him back for that one later, but it was all in good fun. It really was good to be back in the loop with her old friend.

"I'm off to bed. Come back safe, you guys," Ichigo said and waved leisurely to the group and headed for his room's private bathroom, leaving his friends to discuss the rest of their patrol strategy. They would have all likely left by the time he finished cleaning up for bed. When it was time for second shift, they'd fill him and Tatsuki in on the activity of Hollows and they'd go from there, assuming no disasters. It was nothing new.

Kon shuddered when Tatsuki's back was turned. _'Visions of heaven aside, I don't know how much more of this treatment I can take! I gotta get out of here!'_

Rider watched him go and bit her lip very slightly. There was one last thing she had to do before going out to fight.

* * *

About twenty minutes later, Ichigo stepped out of the bathroom into the master bedroom (a term he found rather ironic, given his role in the Holy Grail War) to find his Servant sitting on the edge of his bed. He _pointedly_ ignored how the way she had her legs crossed showed off her curves and the way the placement of her hands on her knees was squeezing her bust between her arms to read the way her head was tilted, the slight twitches in her fingers and the way her posture was more rigid than he had seen it before.

She was nervous. If that wasn't a warning sign from the normally calm and collected woman, nothing was.

"Something on your mind, Rider?" Ichigo asked casually, trying not to let his tenseness show.

The beautiful spirit looked up at him, the slight downturn of her lips only barely hinting at the depth of her discomfort. "Yes. I think…I need to tell you something now before I head out."

Ichigo's expression didn't change, though he had to wonder what subject could possibly make her hesitate. "What about?"

Rider didn't reply right away, her face turning away before looking back to him. "…My…my name." Those two short words carried a far heavier burden of reluctance behind them than Ichigo expected. She was almost _terrified_ about the subject for some reason.

With a nod, he headed to the door and flipped the deadbolt into the locking position. He wasn't positive of it, but he thought he heard her release a breath of relief after he did. The Soul Reaper deputy closed the drapes and then grabbed the padded wooden chair from by the window and sat down directly across from his Servant. "Okay, no one can see or hear us right now. Go ahead," he prompted her as gently as he could. A part of him was actually a little excited at finally learning which legend he was staring in the face.

Taking nearly a full minute to steady herself, Rider finally started to speak. "…I… You can probably tell from my appearance, but I'm not from this country; I was born in the Mediterranean, in Greece."

Ichigo felt one of his fingers twitch involuntarily as an image flickered across his thoughts: a white temple lined with towering columns with three nearly identical women in it.

"I don't want to stall by telling you my life story when there is a battle to fight…"

'_She's stalling,_' the young Master mentally deadpanned, a ghostly image of armed men smashing down great doors to reveal three startled women appearing in his mind's eye with eerie clarity. Her tension was wearing at him, and he bit back the urge to prompt her further.

"…but… my sisters and I were banished from our home," Rider pressed on, almost at war with herself to get past this hurdle. She was actually trembling a little, the seemingly fearless woman's composure at its very limits.

Images of a storm-wracked isle slowly stained with blood invaded Ichigo's mind, remnants of some of the half-forgotten dreams he had seen since arriving in Fuyuki.

"My legend speaks of what happened, and…"

Ichigo's brow twitched. "And?"

"I… was known in that life as… as Medusa," she finally said, the foreign name coming out with crispness halfway between nostalgia and a bitter curse.

In spite of the dramatic reveal, Ichigo really… didn't react. '_Medusa… Medusa… Damn it! I _really_ wish I knew more Greek mythology!_' Despite being quite well-read, Ichigo never developed an interest in most mythology aside from the general material, not specific stories. The name was familiar, but he couldn't recall anything concrete from just that.

The moment she was out with his friends, he was _so_ going to borrow Uryu's laptop and find out why she was so damn nervous about her identity coming to light. All Ichigo could do was look his Servant square in the eye, or as close as he could with that damn blindfold in place and tell her, "Thank you for trusting me with this. Do you want me to keep it from my friends for the moment?"

Medusa nodded, silently perturbed. Ichigo's tone was gentle, but he wasn't genuinely reacting to her name. There wasn't even a twitch to show he recognized it. Also, her link to her Master indicated that he was mostly blank, trying to think of something and feeling frustrated. She had at least expected a question about if her Mystic Eyes were true to their legend, or perhaps a mention of her lack of snakes for hair.

"Fine. I'll keep it to myself for now," Ichigo acquiesced. He glanced at the clock and stood up, looking for any excuse to gently end this conversation. "If you ever want to talk about it, just ask."

Silence fell over the room, Ichigo feeling unbelievably awkward, Rider-Medusa's impassive mask proving more unnerving than usual. Finally, Rider stood up. "I best head out." She sounded so completely drained that Ichigo winced guiltily.

"Be careful out there," Ichigo managed to say as the woman strode towards the door, her long hair slithering off of the bed. The lavender river pulled away to reveal that magic book that the priest had given him, likely so Rider could explain what she could do once she gauged his response. Apparently she was… disappointed. '_Okay, so you weren't exactly the most informed Master and now look like an ignorant jackass,'_ he thought while picking up the book.'_I'll have to fix that. I can skip a few hours of sleep for this._'

On the other side of the heavy wood door, Rider took a moment to compose herself before heading for the balcony to start her patrol. Despite not showing it ouwardly, her nerves were utterly shot. The former gorgon knew that Ichigo wouldn't let himself remain ignorant of her past for long, and that was the worst part.

By the time she came back from her patrol, he'd _know_. He would know that his Servant was a monster with the blood of countless men on her hands.

She tried to tell herself that Ichigo would still accept her despite her previous life, that he would call her deeds in the past just that: the past, having no bearing on what she would do while in his service. It fit with his character to shrug off a person's origin in favor of their intentions. At worst, he would use a Command Spell to forbid her from killing civilians, something that she had no desire to do anyway.

Unfortunately, her attempts to convince herself fell flat; Ichigo was practically a modern-day Heroic Spirit, his personal code of conduct was pretty much ironclad. A monster wouldn't exactly be viewed favorably before such a person in her experience, regardless of her circumstances. Either way, she would have to wait for about six hours for Hollow hunting before she would have a chance to speak to him again.

And waiting was always the hardest part.

* * *

The two retreating Masters and their Servants arrived at the Emiya estate unbothered by any further strangeness, though the possibility of another monster showing up had them all hustling quicker than they had left their base. Both Shirou and Rin almost collapsed onto the cushions surrounding the dining room table as a result but Rin managed to maintain her dignity while Shirou was still jumpy from sensing the creature's sheer malevolence.

It was the exact same, the same cold, empty feeling as the masked demon from the school, but so, so many times more intense. Even the sound was the same: a howling moan that almost completely shut down his ability to think. Between watching Saber's fight with the masked Assassin and the heavy presence of that monstrous phantom, his body felt horribly twitchy. Practically every nerve was stuck between fight and flight.

During the return trip Saber's wounds had healed completely, but she had opted not to burn the prana necessary to recreate her armor for the time being, leaving her sitting beside her Master in her elegant white and blue dress, her eyes narrowed in a mix of deep thought and frustration.

Archer had taken up position once more behind Rin, arms crossed and eyes closed with one leg propped up against the wall.

For several minutes, the four were silent with the only sound in the room the constantly ticking clock on the far wall, each lost in their own dilemmas. The one to break the silence was Rin, who let out an aggrieved sigh. "Okay, I'm stumped. What the hell was that?"

Archer opened one eye to regard his smaller master. "Which part? The Assassin being a fake hero with skills to match the Saber, that mask he claims his Master gave him, or the massive phantasmal beast that just popped in and disappeared seconds later?"

"All of it!" Rin snapped irritably. "None of this makes any sense! I've never heard of a false hero being summoned, and being able to fight at that level is just absurd!"

"Rin, I'm the Archer and I took on the Lancer with a pair of swords," the red knight pointed out with an almost casual air. "Never underestimate anyone summoned as a Servant, regardless of class."

Across the table, the familiar comfort of the mansion and the knowledge that the Boundary Field would warn of danger before it arrived helped Shirou center himself. "Saber, are you sure you're alright? That last attack…"

The Servant in question faced her Master and nodded. "I'm fine, Shirou. He wasn't able to completely close off my escape route. My armor took the brunt of it."

Shirou sighed, feeling at least slightly comforted by Saber's honesty when Rin spoke up, her tone starting to relax, though she still looked strained. "Hey, Shirou-kun, where did you put that book I gave you: the Code? I want to take a look at it. Oh, and while I'm thinking about it, grab a map of the city if you have one."

The amateur magus was a little surprised by the sudden attention, but he managed to recover. "Uh, sure," he said and rose on still shaky legs.

Once he was gone, Rin turned back to the blue swordswoman. "Saber, I've got a quick question," she said, her expression dead serious.

Saber flicked her gaze over in silent acknowledgment.

"Please, be honest with me: could you have defeated Assassin while he was wearing that mask had you used your Noble Phantasm?"

Saber didn't even blink, regarding the dark-haired magus coolly before answering. "Yes, had I taken the chance." She left out that, assuming it hit, doing so would also probably obliterate the mountaintop temple and everything in it completely and leave her running on empty for any other enemy drawn to the scene of her ultimate weapon's radiance.

The frank admission soothed the magus. Saber wasn't the type to brag or puff up her own worth from what she could see. If she said she could do it, she could do it. "Sorry if that was too prying, but I need to get a better handle on our combined abilities before we try something like that again. This Holy Grail War seems to be happening on a much higher level of ability than the previous." Considering the outcome of the previous War, such an assessment was rather daunting.

"It's fine," Saber replied smoothly, not _quite_ agreeing with the magus's conclusion. The challenges were just different, not harder.

Shirou came in with the small velvet-covered book tucked under his arm at that moment. "Here it is. Anything you wanted, specifically?"

"Assassin's page. That last technique doesn't quite fit with his story."

Flipping through to the page where the book seemed to direct him, Shirou handed the Code to Rin once Assassin's serene visage slipped into the corner of his mind's eye, along with a folded street map from just before Kiritsugu died.

"Hmmm…" Rin stared at the page blank page fastidiously, her eyes narrowed and her lips downturned in a small frown. "Let's see… '_Tsubame Gaeshi: Haneigoku: _an evolution of the original _Tsubame Gaeshi_ made possible thanks to a boost in power output provided by an artifact. Combines the three simultaneous slashes of the original technique with heightened instinctive reactions, speed, and power to reflect the Dimensional Refraction Phenomenon further, allowing Assassin to strike with the same technique either in reverse from the first attack, or from another angle alongside the first three slashes. Like the _Tsubame Gaeshi_, requires a level footing for perfect execution.' It goes on to explain that when done right, it…basically guarantees a kill, as every strike is fatal, and the slashes cage the opponent completely."

Archer furrowed his brow. "Strange. So it can only be done when he's enhanced?"

"Looks that way."

Saber then spoke up. "Does it tell about the mask specifically?"

"…No. It's an entirely new creation by his Master, and has nothing to do with his own skills or legend," Rin stated irritably.

"Damn," her dark-skinned Servant bit out. "So, the temple's extremely well defended from the front, and any other avenue of attack is blocked by Boundary Fields and spiritual interference. That leaves one more lead: the Boundary Field at the school."

"What about the phantasmal beast?" Shirou asked, willing to put the issue of the Temple and the school on the backburner for now in favor of what could easily be considered the most immediate concern.

"What about it?" Archer grunted back. '_Oh god, here it comes…_'

"If I felt it, I'm sure you and Saber did as well. That thing existed to bring suffering to everyone around it. You can't say it's not our concern," Shirou said slowly.

"It's not our concern," the white-haired Servant said with an oddly long-suffering sigh. "Whatever it was, it's gone now, so there's no need to get bent out of shape over it."

Saber shook her head. "That might not be the case. Such creatures do not appear without reason. If another arrives, it might not disappear so swiftly. At the very least, we will need to keep watch for similar events, especially if a Servant is involved."

Surprisingly, the normally pragmatic Rin agreed with her. "I might not have seen or _sensed_ it the way you three did, but it something like a Phantasmal Beast showed up for even an instant, then someone is wasting a massive amount of prana for something: something both very big and worth investigating.

Archer quirked a brow at the two magi, his expression otherwise flat. "Oh? I figured we were done charging into situations recklessly."

"So, what? We just sit on our hands and forget about something that evil possibly putting civilians in danger?" Shirou growled at the seemingly laconic red knight.

"Don't forget that we're not the only force at work out there, and I'm sure some of them feel the same way you do, kid. Why run the risk of exposing ourselves to our enemies when those same enemies have the same concerns? Besides, I'm not in the mood to put my Master in any more danger than necessary." Again, the cool, detached logic countered Shirou's passionate entreaty effortlessly.

Gritting his teeth, Shirou averted his gaze from the red knight, his fist clenched almost painfully. The worst part was that he couldn't think of even a single good way to counter the argument. He just couldn't stand the thought of doing nothing in the face of something like that monster. Again, he wished he had more strength so that he could fight like the Servants. With a frustrated sigh, he turned to the petite girl to his right. "Saber, what do you think?"

"We don't have enough information, so Archer's concern is a valid one. Still, we should at the very least keep watch should it happen again."

Rin smiled a bit. "Good thinking. Archer, keep watch for anything of interest for the rest of the night, but stay out of sight if possible. Your eyes are the best of ours by far. Before that, though…" She then unfolded the map and placed it on the table. "Think you have a good enough understanding of the city's layout to point to where you think that monster you all sensed showed up?"

Archer kicked himself lightly off the wall and leaned over the table, his eyes narrowed at the map as he mentally calculated how far the creature was from the base of the mountain when it appeared, and how damn huge it must have been to appear so clearly at the estimated distance. After another moment of thought, he pointed at a park just to the northwest of the bridge. "Around here. Whatever it was, I'll admit it was massive."

Rin blinked while Shirou and Saber looked at the map and saw the miles between the mountain and the park. "From so far away… I'm beginning to doubt your threat assessment if its presence was that distinct from that far." Saber commented.

"It was big, but lacked any real sense of purpose before it dissipated. It might have been meant to draw Servants to a trap."

Rin conceded the point with a nod. "Regardless, I want you to keep watch for the night. Even if we didn't sense it, someone might have watched us fall back from the mountain."

"Yes, Master," he said while fading into his astralized state. Of course, that meant that only Rin couldn't see him anymore, but that was fine. The Knight of the Bow silently departed, not even giving his allies a parting glance.

"Well, seeing as how our original plan was kinda botched, we can still mark Ryuudou Temple as a point of contention. There is obviously something going on there, but the Master appears to be holding a defensive position."

"Yeah… " Shirou muttered, his thoughts torn between the fight with Assassin and the mysterious monster's dread presence.

He flinched slightly when a small hand touched his shoulder, turning his mind to the present. Saber's emerald eyes offered a small measure of sympathy, her calmness in the face of such events soothing his nerves. "It has been a trying night, Shirou. You should retire for now."

Shirou regarded her blankly for a second, his mind just catching up with her words before he offered a slight smile. "You too. Maybe you should take it easy for a few days."

"I cannot. For the time being we are at the disadvantage and I must be ready to fight at any time."

To his credit, Shirou didn't explode at her words, seeing as how she hadn't said she planned to seek out a fight directly. Of course, they still irked him. "Archer's keeping watch for trouble and you need to conserve your strength. I don't want you getting hurt again."

"A Servant is supposed to fight, Shirou. We've been over this: I am your sword, and I am fighting for the Holy Grail."

"I know that! But… but going out just to fight didn't get us anywhere." Slowly, an idea coalesced in the magus's mind from all of the events over the course of the night. Maybe he was going about this the wrong way...

Rin could see the gears turning in her ally's head and leaned forward slightly. Shirou was obviously maturing quickly, and she wanted to see what he'd learned about planning and discretion before making her own suggestion. Admittedly, she did expect the night's operation to work much better, but if no Servant aside from Berserker (and maybe that mystery Rider-class) had an advantage in terms of ability over any other, how the hell could _anyone_ plan an effective offense?

"…Maybe… maybe we should hold off on picking fights with Masters. We charged in there without any information other than someone was up there and what they were doing to the people in the city. We didn't even know what class they were," Shirou looked slightly disgusted that he was pulling back from taking the initiative after taking so long to muster the courage to do so in the first place.

Saber remained silent from her position, letting nothing of her opinion show until her Master finished his proposal, though her stern countenance didn't exactly radiate approval anyway.

"We already know Ryuudou temple is a fortress for a Master and guarded at its only entrance by a Servant, but what do we know about any of the other Masters and their Servants? Aside from… Berserker, we don't really know anything. Let's look for clues and root around some before we try another attack," Shirou suggested, slowly building up strength behind his words.

"Very good, Shirou-kun," Rin complimented him with an approving smile. "I was hoping you'd at least take away something from this mess. Frankly you have the right idea about our lack of information. If we're going to survive, we'll need to keep our heads down until we know what, or better yet who, we're up against."

Saber turned to regard the more experienced magus critically. "You have a plan of action, then."

"Of course. Despite his practically non-existent skill as a magus, Shirou-kun's new talents at sensing and seeing spirits, including astralized Servants, makes him invaluable here. No magus has that ability that I've heard of; it's our biggest advantage," Rin pointed out.

Shirou nodded. Even if all he could do was see the unseen, it was better than moping about not being able to do anything. "How do we do this?"

"Simple: you can find any Servant that guards his Master and your improving senses means that you can scout more effectively than any other Master, since you can see and sense enemies without drawing attention as a Servant."

"You make it sound as if you intend for him to put himself in grave danger without protection," Saber pointed out rather icily.

Rin grimaced. "I admit it's not perfect, but we still need to attend school and you can't astralize. Archer and I can protect him there, but we still stick out as Master and Servant. Shirou-kun here won't. Outside of class you can stay close without being suspicious if you're careful."

Saber opened her mouth to draw more specifics from the taller girl when Shirou beat her to it. "I'll do it. I know I'm not the most powerful magus, so I have to use what I have, and if that puts me at risk, that's a price I have to pay." The strangely calm conviction behind his words earned surprised stares for a few seconds. The silence wasn't long enough for it to dissolve into awkwardness, but it did stretch out noticeably as they digested his words.

"Shirou… If that is what you want, then I will support you." Saber said, her voice carrying just a hint of pride at his character. "If you are ever in any danger, don't hesitate to call me to your side. A Command Spell is a fair price to be able to protect you."

Rin stretched a little and stood up. "So now that we got that out of the way, we better get to bed. Tomorrow's another busy day."

The other Master and Servant pair agreed and headed to bed in their respective rooms.

For the next hour, all was quiet in the Emiya estate.

Up on the roof during this period of serenity, Archer scanned the area. His iron discipline focused on picking out the anomalies and inconsistencies that were piling up around him from his memories of these same events.

First: This mystery "Rider" that apparently had Ilya playing the field more cautiously than he recalled. As far as he remembered, Berserker's very _existence_ allowed her to act with impunity, but he hadn't seen hide or hair of the little homunculus since that battle.

And where the hell was Blood Fort Andromeda? He recalled that dome of red death rather vividly, as well as the Servant behind it; the true Rider, a being that was nowhere _near _powerful enough to put Berserker and Ilya on the defense. That Boundary Field on the school's roof most definitely was _not_ one of its component magic squares. That event was rather pivotal in his relationship with Saber during his teenage years, leading into learning her coveted identity and helping eventually open her up, so its absence was vexing in having a timeline for the major events of the War.

Next: Shirou's spiritual senses. That set of talents never manifested in his lifetime that he recalled, only being bestowed upon him once he became a spirit himself. For Shirou to have them already… did that mean he wasn't in the right timeline? That he had been summoned to a different Holy Grail War? Archer clucked his tongue. That kind of threw his plans out the window. Oh, this version of Shirou was still an idealistic faker, but if things kept deviating, he might never end up going down the path that led to Archer's current status. Good for Shirou, but it didn't exactly help Archer's plans any.

Overall, events felt…quicker, like the entire War was happening in fast-forward. Events that normally were days apart happened on consecutive nights and his countdown to select a course of action was shorter as a result. Dammit, he needed more information!

His thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of a black crack like the one that vomited the giant phantom forth, just much, much smaller. Archer watched dispassionately while the crack parted and a white mask like a horse-skull slid through at the end of a scorpion-like body. Archer sighed slightly when the creature pulled free of the blackness and moaned in a mix of hunger and despair. For some reason, the presence of that empty space where its heart should reside was the most unnerving aspect about it. The claws and stinger-tipped tail just lacked menace to the hardened war veteran, but the implied lack of spiritual center grated against him, somehow.

The monster sniffed about and scuttled down the street, letting out ropes of ectoplasmic drool as it moved. Several times, it scanned the area with its burning gold eyes, including the rooftop Archer was standing on, but while it obviously was searching for something, it couldn't seem to focus on him or even the building he was standing on. It could just be that he was astralized, but from the way he could see through it, the monster was astralized as well.

Archer materialized on the off chance that it was going to attempt to enter the grounds and notched his bow with an arrow of almost pure prana. Still, the next time the creature glanced in his general direction it remained unfocused. With a mental shrug, he released the bolt, planting it right between the mask's eye sockets, tearing clear through the mask like a sniper's bullet and breaking the concrete below.

The thing dropped dead where it stood. Archer furrowed his brow. That thing's behavior made no sense. Even staring right into its death, the creature never once registered his presence.

A moment later, the creature's body broke down, almost burning away into small flecks of color that soon faded to nothing, even taking the blood splattered around it. He was tempted to jump down and take a closer look, but he was still on watch duty. He had a gut feeling that the moment he stopped paying attention would be the moment he missed something critical.

Fortune cut him a tiny break when a certain blue knight joined him at his post. "Archer, what was that I sensed you do?" Saber asked him, once more garbed in full armor.

Archer shrugged. "A smaller phantom beast. Completely different from the first one and pretty damn stupid."

"I assume it disappeared like the first?"

"No, this one stuck around until I killed it then basically burned away. See that pit mark in the road? That's where my arrow went through it."

Saber narrowed her eyes and clenched her gauntlet around her invisible blade. "Keep watch. I'll take a look."

Archer gave her a slightly sardonic look. "Didn't your Master not want you to risk getting hurt again?"

"Shirou is naïve-" the Knight of the Sword began before she heard Archer cough slightly.

"That we can both agree on…" Archer muttered under his breath.

"-but if the enemy was so close, conflict is inevitable."

Her fellow knight silently agreed. "Just don't let his idealism kill you."

Saber raised a thin eyebrow and stared into the Archer's hawkish eyes for a second before jumping off the roof and into the street. Even though she was no magus, she could still see things others would miss in the darkness. Something definitely passed through the area: the street had small pits spaced evenly like a track way, and the air stank with malevolent energies.

A long, howling moan drew her attention from above her head and looked up to see a black void ringed by hook-like teeth falling towards her. Without flinching in the slightest, Saber leaped back and let the thing fall to the street, revealing a massive teal-skinned ogre with arms thicker than Saber's armored torso. The thing's head was covered in a white bone mask, a wedge-shaped thing tipped by a circular mouth like a lamprey. The creature's sloping skull had two black voids through which eyes the color of molten gold stared hungrily. From between those hook-like teeth, drops of green fluid splattered onto the street, eating away the concrete they touched with a sharp, loud hiss.

Readying her sword, Saber found herself smirking a little. _'Not harder than the last War, just different.'_

_

* * *

_

The Hollow screamed at the small creature before it, the tiny figure's soul shining with all the beauty of an aurora and the brightness of the full moon. Sniffing through the air had lured him to this place, and it stumbled upon this small, delectable thing of white dressed in purple. Most of his victims never saw him coming, but this one looked right at him and regarded him curiously. If the small one could see him, her soul must truly be delicious! He had to have it! He had to eat it and sate the hunger and emptiness! He had to-

His thoughts, along with his spiritual body, dissolved beneath the monstrous impact of mystically enhanced rock. Berserker's axe-club heaved the rapidly vanishing corpse aside, the titan's visage almost derisive while it ruthlessly squeezed the life out of another masked phantom's head until his fist closed completely, the dissolving monster's blood and liquefied brains slithering from between his massive fingers.

Ilya giggled at her Servant's expression, strolling almost casually while Berserker stood back and to her right. For her, the brutality of her Servant was just another sign of his zealous loyalty. She was quite happy with his presence tonight: ever since she left the forest around her castle, masked monsters had ripped their way from beyond the veil to attack her!

The first time it happened, Berserker lunged forward and snapped the bear-like monster's neck while still astralized.

Her amazement at the feat was pushed aside when the monster dissolved into multi-colored flecks of… something that quickly faded from sight. Spirits, she concluded. These hungry wraith-like creatures appeared to not think twice about attacking anything around them. Of course with Berserker guarding her, they had no hope of claiming a hair on her head. She could safely stroll through town towards her destination with Berserker still invisible to normal humans while he smashed aside any who dare try and lay a finger, claw, tentacle, or tooth on her.

With an almost faerie-like grace, Ilya headed towards the bridge. When she drew closer to her destination, she paused in annoyance. She could feel the number of malignant entities rising and falling seemingly at random, their presences flickering in and out all over the range she could pick up on them from. Berserker himself had squashed another on the way here, but this was getting rather irritating.

The possibility of an unhinged Master causing all of this occurred to her, but considering the scale of the phantasmal beast that had first appeared it seemed rather absurd. Even more problematic, the number of smaller beasts that came is its wake would strain the strongest magi she knew of short of a Sorcerer. The more likely possibility placed the blame solely on the shoulders of another Servant: Caster. While similar to a magus in terms of methodology, a Servant bore far, far greater power to accomplish their objectives.

Yes, she could see it now: the Master and the Servant colluding to have these creatures attack everyone they encountered, forcing the Masters and Servants to expend energy fighting to defend themselves and minimize damage, allowing a cunning Master to watch for where their enemies were housed and how they fought.

She would almost consider it a bold, brilliant tactic if it weren't for the fact that doing so put the secrecy of the War in jeopardy. At least this gave her something to work with: not all legendary magi could summon spirits to do their bidding. It would narrow down her search considerably when she got around to it.

Crossing the bridge, two more masked spirits launched themselves at her, only for Berserker's club to crush their heads, followed by a powerful kick that sent the two rapidly-dissolving corpses into the river.

"Berserker, make sure none of those things enter the park while I'm working."

A low rumbling growl met her command. Berserker stayed at her side the rest of the way, only leaving briefly to slaughter the astral creatures that would dare approach his Master.

Several more of the creatures milled around the park. Upon seeing the diminutive girl and her behemoth protector, they released a moaning howl of hungry anticipation. Berserker drowned out the horrid scream with his own thunderous roar before leaping into battle. Berserker lived up to his class title the moment the first attack was launched, rending the monstrous spirits with no semblance of self-defense. None of the masked apparitions could even scratch his hide as he kicked, smashed, punched, bisected and flattened them one after the other.

Ilya hummed a tune to herself over the one-sided brawl while she inspected the park for clues on the origins of the titanic black beast that had appeared here just a few hours previous.

* * *

On the top of a house a few hundred yards away, Rider brought a knuckle to her lips and considered the dilemma before her, the corpse of a Hollow with a hole from an expertly thrown chain-dagger between its eyes dissolving behind her. Ichigo wasn't here to manhandle Berserker again. Now that they knew the extent of God Hand's protection, he should theoretically put his all into killing the giant. As it stood, Berserker's presence hampered her for the simple reason that she couldn't afford to be seen by the destroyer, nor could she approach within a few hundred yards of his Master lest the Command Mantra detect her. This left a huge hole in where she could maneuver to reach attacking Hollows.

'_At least Berserker is unwittingly contributing_,' she thought wryly, watching her rival Servant ram an boar-like Hollow into a light post hard enough to fold the metal. He followed up by driving his hand through the shrieking spirit's form before decapitating it in a single swing of that massive axe-club.

Speaking of Hollows, a phantom sensation slid across the skin on her left side with the texture of mud and oil, signaling the arrival of another masked soul to her left, away from Berserker. With a deceptively graceful motion, she kicked off the rooftop towards the feeling, her chain daggers hissing in her hands as the links slithered behind her.

Down in the middle of the street ahead of her, a crack pulsed in the air mere feet from a power line. The veil between this world and the Hollow's realm wrenched open at the urging of two tendrils tipped by three-fingered hands. The Hollow that emerged hunched over and sniffed the ground, its mask resembling the slender skull of an anteater, though its overlong mouth was filled with interlocking needle-like teeth. A long pink-purple tongue darted out, forking at the tip like a snake's. The creature looked around for a second before it spotted Rider coming in for an attack.

The Servant wasted no time on banter or speculation, her dagger thrown with the precision and nearly the power of a rifle bullet from a trained sniper. Conjured into existence by pure prana, the blade bit deeply into the startled Hollow's arm that had instinctively risen to block the projectile. It seemed to register no pain from the hole punched in its flesh, barely sparing the spike a second glance in favor of its potential meal. The wretched creature exhaled a cloud of steam and focused the red points of balefire that marked its eyes on her. With a twist of its seemingly boneless arm, it snagged the chain and attempted to reel Rider in like a fish on a line.

Rider's inhuman strength stymied the Hollow, earning a slight grunt of surprise when she refused to budge despite easily being three feet shorter and not even a third as broad as her enemy. The tug-of-war with her chain lasted for a few seconds longer before the increasingly annoyed Hollow opened its mouth to almost 120 degrees, revealing that behind the rows and rows of thin, sharp teeth, there was a black void deep enough to devour all of the light around it. That long tongue snapped out from within it, splitting at its tip into two tendrils that shot towards the black-clad Servant.

Rather disgusting to think about being caught by, in Rider's opinion.

Banishing her weapon, the woman flipped away in a smooth, almost sensual motion that left her in a low, wide crouch with the tips of her fingers on the concrete and her second dagger's chain under her left hand coiled like a poised viper. The abrupt loss of resistance unbalanced the Hollow and its tongue-tendrils flopped to the street while it tumbled backwards. Rider wasted no time jumping at the opportunity.

Her dagger flashed forward and impaled the creature's tongue to the ground, earning her a gratifying howl of shocked agony as all of the corrupted spirit's weight pulled on the pierced tongue and ripped it open. Before it could even refocus its attention from the pain, Rider had already crossed the thirty-foot gap between them and jumped high over its head. The Hollow's mask collapsed with the sound of baked clay shattering under the impact of Rider's kick on her return to Earth, the concrete under its bear-like feet cracking slightly beneath the force.

"Tragic things, these Hollows…" she murmured to herself, feeling a slight pang of kinship with the instinct-driven things. Even separated from her past self by time and her restored form, she could still vividly recall the madness and rage that drove her in her final days. This made it both easier and harder to slay them: they were just like her, likely unaware of the magnitude of their fall and merely trying to make the hurting stop, but by the same token, also slew those undeserving of their fury and could only find release in death.

She couldn't afford to dwell on it. The former Gorgon leaped away from the already mostly dissolved corpse to reach the nearest one she could sense.

* * *

It was approaching six in the morning and the streets of Shinto were still quiet save for the early morning workers and the occasional jogger. It was still dark, the sun having barely started to wash away the blackness of the eastern horizon.

One of those joggers, a chestnut-haired high-school sophomore girl, kept her breathing regular while she crossed over from Miyama into the more urban part of the city. Ayako Mitsuzuri took up jogging in the mornings back at the start of middle school, constantly mixing up her routes to keep from getting complacent and trying to push herself further, condition herself on more hills and to just see more of her hometown on her own. Even in the pre-dawn darkness, the early morning shift in the city kept it lit in a dazzling array of colors that really couldn't be appreciated when travelling with friends.

The girl bore all the earmarks of a sporty or tomboyish sort, her hair parted around her heart-shaped face, cut just below her shoulders and pulled back into a short ponytail. Her build was slender but toned and deceptively strong, not that one could see it through her outfit. She wore no makeup or jewelry, not even ear studs, reserving those for when she actually netted a boyfriend. As always, she was clad in her grey track suit and white running shoes, all well worn from use.

Ayako's mind currently dwelled on two things, both leading into each other quite easily. One was the upcoming archery competition for her school team. As the president of club and team captain, there were several things that needed to her consideration before an event like this could get off the ground. In addition to the required paperwork, she needed to select her best members for the competition, some of which were already accounted for.

Naturally she was on the team, as well as Shinji Matou, weasel that he was, though he seemed to be cutting back on the random womanizing and spent more time leaving early for "family business." Next was the up-and-coming junior, his little sister Sakura. Despite her timid nature, Sakura was actually very good for a first year, easily on par with the upperclassmen and getting better. A few more names and faces flickered through her head while she turned a corner down a side street.

Still, issue number two came up when she considered her last slot. The competition was early next month, and there was one person she _really_ wanted to have for the team by then.

Shirou Emiya.

In their first year the guy, frankly, blew the competition to bits and scattered them to the four winds. He was _that_ good, practically a born archer. Ayako was pretty sure that if he focused, Emiya could make it to the Olympics, or at least the Nationals, easy. The problem was that after his accident, he simply left. The golden-eyed archery captain had a sneaking suspicion Shinji put the final nail in that coffin with some venomous barbs about his scar (which she doubted was quite bad enough to cause problems in formal events).

So far, she had made it a point to try and draw him back through cheerful invites to watch the team practice and even having Sakura ask on her behalf, but neither worked. The worst part was that he was so damn _nice_ that it was impossible to justify getting mad with him over it. If he didn't want to compete in favor of part-time work, he had that right…which of course brought her train of thought right back to what to do about that last slot on her team.

The morning air was crisp, cool and otherwise still, just the way she liked it for her jogs. The last few days were honestly rather scary for anyone out in the evening, what with the murders, gas leaks and the disappearances, but on the opposite end of the spectrum the days were always very quiet and normal. Observing her surroundings passively, Mitsuzuri noted that she had swung towards the south after passing Shinto's train station, a direction she recalled held a small Catholic church, but that was way too far for her to really go out of her way to see right now. She had just decided to turn around and head back after a few more blocks when the sharp sound of metal striking metal stung her ears. The abrupt sound stopped her cold in her tracks.

"Ha! That the best ya got? Ní mórán thú!" a sharp but jovial voice called out from her right and… above her?

Turning, she saw a man dart land twenty yards off into an island of light provided by the street lamp overhead. The figure was wearing some form of blue bodysuit: a skintight, dark blue thing lined with silver tracing and topped by large shoulder plates. Even if his outfit was weird, she couldn't deny that he was one of those rakishly handsome types: tall and muscular with an athlete's build. His hair was long, as dark as his outfit and pulled back in a low ponytail, and his facial features were sharp, slightly feral.

These observations of course didn't really register in her mind compared to the color of his eyes, a deep and bloody crimson that matched the long weapon in his hand. The object he held with a perfect poise even a novice could sense was a long spear tipped by a wicked barbed head, the entire thing resembling a mass of blood held in a solid shell. "That's right, get up. Think ya got enough in ya for another round?" he barked to the empty air in front of him, a malicious gleam in his eyes and a contradictorily bright grin on his face.

Ayako dare not even breathe. This maniac was obviously unstable and even more obviously dangerous. He had to be that murderer! With all of her mind focused on the task, the teen fought to remain calm and inch backwards. Just a few more silent steps and the still-closed shopping center would be between her and the spearman. Her heart sounded too loud in her ears when the man lunged forward at speeds that looked too fast to be real, his grip shifting until he swung the weapon across his body like a bat. Shockingly, a resounding "crack" sounded through the morning air as the spear met some unseen resistance before the man powered through.

Ten yards away from the blue devil's swing arc, a light pole shook and groaned. A section near its base suddenly and violently caved in from some huge impact, the light shorting out and the pole folding in half into the street. How the hell was that even possible? "And that makes five," the man commented, heartily pleased with himself while he shouldered the crimson pole-arm.

When the man almost casually turned to regard Ayako directly with those crimson eyes, she felt her whole body lock up in stark terror. Those weren't the eyes of a human: they were slit like a cat's, and the way they seemed to shine in the dim lighting from the remaining street lights almost made her scream. Only the fact that the man wasn't actively lowering the blade towards her and the fact that she found nearly impossible to even breathe kept any sound beyond a terrified squeak from leaving her throat.

The man's grin fell away and he shook his head. "Damn it. Got too into it back there," he sighed, his disappointment sincere. "Sorry about this, little lady, but I can't let anyone who sees me live."

Ayako wasn't sure what happened, but the man simply vanished from her sight, a slight stirring of dust the only sign he was ever there. Ayako flinched when she felt rather than saw the man reappear behind her. "For what it's worth, sorry about this," he said before a shock of pain from the back of her neck effectively stripped her of sensation and blackness embraced her.

With a stoic frown, Lancer watched the girl drop to her knees before he grabbed her shoulder to keep her from breaking her nose on the concrete. He silently berated himself for getting so sloppy. These dark spirits originally proved some of the best stress relief he had since his summoning. Considering how his luck had been since then, any form of distraction was more than welcome. Not only did their variety of forms and tactics keep even his short fights interesting, but the fact that they acted like predators hunting the humans around them made fighting them worth it. It kind of made him feel like a hero again, and it had the added bonus of getting away from that disgusting church and its sadistic occupant.

He got so into it that this girl saw him fight. His own stupidity condemned her to die when she had nothing to do with this mess. The least he could do was make it painless. Now that he'd knocked her cold (lightly: he wasn't trying to snap her neck after all), one clean strike through the right spot and she'd die painlessly in her sleep.

The Knight of the Spear made it a point to try and commit the girl's face to memory as a reminder not to let such a pathetic mistake happen again, and almost got clobbered for it. Purely from long-honed reflexes, Lancer jumped forward and dove into a roll before turning to face whoever had the gall to try and sneak up on him.

Standing over the girl with a large fist outstretched where Lancer's head once was and the other hand resting on the girl's shoulder, a bronze-skinned giant regarded him almost emotionlessly. The figure's age was hard to determine, but his eyes were those of a blooded warrior, though his features hinted at youth. "I can't let you harm her," the figure spoke levelly in a deep rumble. He was very tall, several inches taller than Lancer himself, and solidly built; a human wall.

"Oh this is just great, as if I didn't have enough on my conscience this morning," he groaned, eyes narrowing slightly. "You _do_ realize I have to kill you too now, right?"

"That won't happen," the giant replied while extending his right arm to the side, his left gently lowering the girl to the ground. Immediately a matte black… fluid slithered from just beyond his fist up to his shoulder, tightening into a black armor flush with his arm. The armor formed a broad shield over his lower arm that blended into his hand. Lines of magenta covered the shield to produce a pattern akin to a stylized screaming skull, and a foot-long spike jutted from the top of the shield back behind his elbow.

The Servant clucked his tongue at the display. "Flashy magecraft ain't exactly impressive to me, amateur. The less you struggle, the less it'll hurt." To the average human eye, Lancer's sudden lunge happened too fast for the human mind to process, crossing the gap between them in less than a second, the crimson blade of Gae Bolg darting in to pierce the giant's heart.

Only to bounce off the shield that had suddenly gotten in the way.

Chad had to admit that Lancer was fast. Faster than fast. Without using anything but pure foot speed, that last charge easily rivaled the _Sonido_ of a low-level arrancar. Worse, the Servant accomplished that feat effortlessly, likely not even exerting himself at all. Of course, the last major battles took place at least at that level. His muscle memory was easily up to the task of interposing _Brazo Derecha de Gigante's_ shield in the way.

Lancer hopped back, feeling a slight anticipation seeping into his thoughts. Oh, he was still going to kill the two of them, but at least this guy would go down swinging. "Not bad there, man. It's not every day I can meet someone who can block that." This time, he lowered himself into stance, his legs spread and his spear held low. "Let's try that again."

Chad's eyes narrowed beneath the mop of hair that normally hid them. The next charge was marginally faster, but the real assault came from that spear's barrage of thrusts. The first came at his left eye, the broad armor plate that covered his arm shooting up to knock it aside. With another twitch, the shield of his _abuelo's _teachings guarded him from the next strike at his exposed stomach, then another trying to stab at his left shoulder, and then again at his right leg. Again and again the needle of crimson stabbed at every opening his shield presented while blocking the previous attack. Chad's training in speed had continued since the Winter War, and it was paying dividends here.

In less than six seconds, Lancer had easily fired two dozen attacks, ending with a powerful swing that rebounded off the screaming skull shield before he stepped back and brought the weapon back into his neutral stance. Chad hadn't even gone back a step in that entire exchange. "Holy crap, that's damn impressive for a human. You got a name, or do I just keep calling you 'man?'"

"…Sado."

"Sado, eh? I'll remember it. Least I can do is learn the names of those I kill in battle, you know," Lancer returned jovially. "By the way, you wouldn't happen to know a guy that goes by the name Ichigo, would ya?" he added almost as an afterthought.

Chad remained silent, tensing slightly in anticipation of the next attack.

"Yeah, you're almost as weird as he was to fight a Servant, though if you're half as interesting as he was, I'll still enjoy this. First though…" Lancer shot to the side and aimed his lance at the prone girl's head. He had more than doubled his speed from his first charge. There was no way that this Sado guy could block it in ti-

He blocked it in time. Whether by dumb luck or a feat of hidden speed, that armored plate intercepted Gae Bolg's blade again! The tall young man shifted his position to cover the girl from another attack, his gaze calm and unwavering. "Leave her alone," Sado almost growled.

"Can't. You both gotta die," Lancer replied nonchalantly in a slight imitation of Chad's short method of speaking. The knight of the spear furrowed his brow slightly: the only outward sign of his surprise, unsure what to make of this goliath's inhuman reflexes. With a mental shrug, he twirled his spear in his hand. The red spear flickered again, alternating between striking at the young girl and her towering guardian. The gap between his targeted points was wider, but the interval between attacks was even shorter than his previous rush. Lancer smirked when Gae Bolg tasted blood, small nicks appearing at the edges of Chad's broad frame as he put more effort into protecting the still unconscious girl over himself, his shield only just diverting his attacks and paying the price for his refusal to budge slowly. "Death by a thousand cuts" was never pretty, but this guy definitely had the endurance to take it for a while before he slowed down.

Lancer couldn't keep from smirking at Chad's increasingly desperate-looking defense. Even though the half-Mexican could see how this fight would end if it continued this way, he refused to abandon the girl behind him. With swift, measured steps, he constantly adjusted his position to cover Lancer's angles of attack, the almost bestial warrior constantly on the offensive from with nearly zero time between strikes.

Unbeknownst to them both, the girl's eyes fluttered, the continuous sound of Lancer's spear striking Chad's shield dragging her slowly to consciousness.

"Oi, oi, don't just stand there! Come on, aren't ya gonna swing back?" Lancer taunted as he pressed his assault harder. Chad's armored arm was scuffed and scratched in several places, but held firm beneath the savage assault. He'd taken to only blocking the attacks that could kill or severely hamper him, letting minor scratches scar his frame from head to toe.

The Hound of Ulster wasn't exactly sure what to make of the young man's dogged defense aside from the fact that it was getting a little boring since this guy never tried to fight back. Hell, even an _attempted_ punch would have been an amusing change of pace from this one-sided pounding he was doling out. Naturally, he was more than a little willing to take his eyes off his targets when a blue light started building up behind him.

Lancer hopped back a step and let the light pass in front of him, the light revealed as an arrow of pure blue energy that imbedded itself into the road by over a foot before it dissolved. Had he not moved, the arrow would have likely pierced his temple. "The Archer?" he muttered before tracing the arrow's path with his eyes and seeing a warrior clad in white glaring down at him from behind thin glasses at the edge of a rooftop. In his hand was a spider web-like latticework of light held as a bow. The other was drawn back as if having released an arrow. Bowman though he obviously was, that was not the red knight who called himself the Archer-class. "Who the hell are you?" he demanded.

The figure said nothing, simply firing another blast of light, this time clearly a barrage of those light arrows.

Lancer was rather amused by the sight of so many projectiles, a rain that couldn't possibly be dodged or successfully weathered… if you were a human of course. With a slight grin, Lancer twisted Gae Bolg in his hands and swiped his crimson blade through the air, each pass smacking aside at least three arrows. "Ora, you gotta do a lot better than that if you wanna scratch me, ya eyesore!" he called out sharply. His natural speed and agility allowed him to easily strike down every arrow that would have pierced him, ignoring those that were meant to counter any attempt at dodging.

Lancer's eyes widened sharply when another blue light blasted towards him from behind with a fiery roar, coming from the shield-armed warrior's direction. Not daring take his eyes off the stream of arrows, Lancer leaped straight up over a dozen feet to his left, parrying as he went and watched a wave of blue light pass through the spot he managed to vacate, barely clipping a rooftop and vaporizing a few roofing tiles in its path. "Nice try, kids. That might have worked if you had any subtlety behind those. Word from the wise: it's hard to launch a sneak attack when your weapons glow in the dark," he said with a grin, alternating between his two (three, counting the girl) targets. "This is actually getting good! Come on, bring it!"

_-Lancer, that's enough for now. Come back to the church,-_ a deep, hollow voice sliced through his thoughts.

'_Dammit Master, not now! They're witnesses!'_ he mentally snapped back, his wild grin dropping sharply.

_-Let them deal with the fallout. If they become a problem I will let you kill them later. That slip-up alone has me doubting if you should be allowed to fight again,- _the voice warned with an almost casual air.

"Go dtachta an diabhal thú!" the blue warrior spat in his native tongue before fading to his astral form and jumping to the retreat. As a spirit, he phased through every obstacle between him and his Master, taking a winding path to ensure he lost those two damn battle magi. Maybe those were some of those "Enforcer" guys that his _real_ Master had been a part of. The Hound of Ulster clenched his jaw. This whole mess was just absurd!

Back at the battlefield, Uryu scowled at the diminishing signature of the Lancer. The midnight-blue figure matched Ichigo's description perfectly. Oh, if this was any other time he'd gladly follow him and figure out his Master's identity, but there were too many Hollows still lurking about to deal with first, and he would need all of his focus to overcome a Servant, especially one so nimble and adept at blocking his shots.

With barely a thought, he turned to the right and sniped a Hollow two blocks down before hopping down to the street level and approaching Chad, who greeted him with a nod. "Ishida." The Quincy was rather confused that Chad had his shield facing him. Dismissing his bow, the bowman tilted his head.

"Sado-kun." Uryu returned, eyeing the numerous shallow but slightly bloody cuts that covered his friend's towering frame. "Good to see you're alright. Your spiritual pressure had me worried with the way you were sending it out. From the looks of things he didn't have any openings you were willing to take in his attacks?" he asked almost clinically, trying to analyze the traces of energy that infected those wounds.

"No. If I moved to attack I'd leave her unprotected," Chad answered in a low voice, subtly gesturing to the girl beneath him while dismissing his armor. Uryu blinked, adjusted his glasses and looked down.

And found a groggy, disoriented, but very much awake Ayako Mitsuzuri trying to focus on them both.

* * *

Translations from Gaelic: "Ní mórán thú!" = You're worthless!

"Go dtachta an diabhal thú!" = May the devil choke you!


	15. Hollow Whispers in the Dark: Part II

_Hollow Whispers in the Dark: Part II_

It had been a lively night, Zouken Matou mused from his workshop. The cavernous maze of tunnels dug by his familiars was slick with their secretions and as black as Kotomine's heart. Nestled almost regally in a corner of this dungeon, the withered magus brooded over the Holy Grail War's completely unprecedented interruption by these masked spirits. Oh, they weren't that formidable on their own, but they all had appeared throughout the city like flies to a rotten corpse, partially transparent or under some kind of glamour that hid them from those without Magic Circuits, and even some who did. In the last War, he would see the occasional masked beast stalk yards from a magus and both would ignore each other.

In the centuries the venerable magus had persisted in this world, he had seen their ilk more than a few times, growing more distinct to his sunken eyes as time marched on: these masked creatures that brought misfortune and death to humanity before vanishing into nothingness. They did not plague him or interfere with his plans, so he saw no reason to interfere with them. This time though, they appeared in droves, roaming the streets in unprecedented numbers ever since the appearance of that black giant. Again, he did not immediately concern himself until a few of them started slamming against his mansion's Boundary Field. Though he didn't bother even looking out the window, he could feel their malicious auras colliding with his home's defenses.

Just he always did, he paid them no mind, confident that his mystic defenses would eventually deter them. That is, until he noticed _where_ they were focusing their attentions. At first he labeled it as odd but unimportant that the masked wraiths congregated around the east wing of the mansion until one particularly powerful beast started pushing through the field and lashed towards one particular window: the window of the room where the core of his plans lay dormant.

The creature's spiritual form proved durable enough to resist the surging Boundary Field that attempted to tear its life force apart, unlike its screaming brethren that attempted to follow in its wake. It wouldn't do for the core to be destroyed before it was ready for the endgame. He didn't intend to deploy it so early, but if it was one thing that helped one survive the Holy Grail War, it was adaptability.

Zouken had taken the slightest of visceral satisfactions when he gave the whispered imperative: "_Awaken._"

Instantly, the entire house felt heavy, the shadows that filled the perpetually dark mansion deepening until all light in the building was swallowed for a few glorious seconds. Closing his eyes, the magus imagined how the tides had turned on the hunting wraiths from the sounds coming from overhead. The moans of hunger turned to screams of confusion and agony when his weapon lashed out at its attackers, the abundance of shadows thrown about by the streetlights and the night itself granting his weapon nigh-infinite mobility. The weaker wraiths didn't even have time to scream before they were captured by the black tendrils that made up the Shadow's form.

Zouken could feel the energies of the masked thing corrupt into the same pitch-black prana that his dark tool wielded before it was swallowed up completely. One by one, the masked wraiths suffered the same fate, any counterattacks proving fruitless; to touch the Shadow meant death. Running was impossible so long as light cast shadows, and even if they could harm its dark form, it would heal even the most severe of wounds in seconds. It was truly a perfect weapon to hunt and slay the Servants with when the time was right.

The last one of the masked wraiths, the same that had managed to muscle through the Boundary Field, proved extremely resilient in comparison to its fellows, its presence diminishing more slowly as it probably attempted to evade or fight at range. It mattered not. In less than thirty seconds, it too was dragged into the darkness to feed the Shadow's insatiable hunger for prana.

With those irritants taken care of, Zouken extended his will to the Shadow and commanded it to return, which it did, once more resuming its meaningless existence as a human-shaped thing he had crafted his adopted granddaughter into. Zouken spent the rest of the night mulling over the way these creatures of malice affected things. Their hunger for powerful souls undoubtedly included the Servants, forcing the Heroic Spirits to battle and reveal themselves near their Master's center of power to defend them, making hiding more and more difficult.

Apparently the Holy Grail was getting tired of waiting for the Servants to start killing each other in earnest. An amusing thought. If only one of the Servants would die, then he could deal with that issue in a hurry. Still, he had waited this long, so waiting another day or three would make little difference. The prize was so very close. There was no room for haste and the mistakes it invariably brought.

All the while, Sakura whimpered from nightmares of bone-masked monsters screaming accusations while tearing into her flesh and leaving wounds that bled liquid darkness.

* * *

Ayako's mind was rather disorganized at the moment, the pull of unconsciousness still lingering on her senses as she tried to bring the world back into proper focus. After the murderer knocked her out, somehow moving so fast she couldn't even see him, a loud series of clangs and metallic pings slowly brought her out of it, the cacophony far better than any alarm clock, though the ringing in her own head drowned out a goodly chunk of the noise.

That didn't mean that it was a clear case of suddenly waking up, naturally. Bits and pieces of information wormed their way into her addled mind through her sluggish senses. At some point, her eyes slid open very briefly, catching the feet of her blue assailant and… another person before sinking back into darkness.

The next time her eyes opened, she spotted the broad back of a towering man, his right arm down in front of her head just as a red bar bounced off of it, the murderer's spinning the pole-arm around his waist before stabbing at the giant's head only for that mighty right arm to blur and smack the weapon aside. Things were a little clearer this time around, including the dark mop of wavy hair on her defender's head and the muscles of his sturdy frame. In the darkness she couldn't make much out of the details, but the man struggling to protect her wasn't anyone she knew, that much was certain.

She had closed her eyes and her head was still ringing, but she knew the man in blue was speaking, and then a strange sound like metal deflecting metal for a moment before the maniac's rough, growling voice spoke a bit more. Though her brain was finally back to making sense of the world again, she still felt light-headed and her neck felt bruised. Still, Ayako had managed to pull herself into a sitting position and massaged her sore neck. When she refocused, she could have sworn that her senses played one final trick on her, as a white apparition flickered at the corner of her eye before everything shifted back into focus. Standing over her, a towering man extended a hand to her in a silent offer of help.

"You okay?" the giant rumbled in a powerful but gentle baritone.

"I-I think so," she muttered as the man smoothly pulled her upright. Well, he was a big one that was for certain. He towered over her by over a full head, and his body was powerfully muscled but not bulging. His features held an unusual mix of Japanese and largely foreign influence, and his skin was dark like his wavy hair. That said, he was handsome in an exotic way, and his dark eyes were both calm and kind. Ayako had a moment of trouble keeping her feet, but she managed to regain her balance. In the poor lighting, she could only barely see some of the cuts that stained his long-sleeved shirt with blood, but it was enough to drive home what she owed him. "What about you? Are you alright? He tried to kill you!"

"I've had worse," he shrugged dismissively. "We'd better leave in case he comes back."

The bronze titan didn't even need to specify who he meant to get the point across, Ayako shuddering slightly at the memory of the blue-clad maniac's mad grin. "Yeah… yeah I think you're right…" she muttered.

"Lead the way." The man made it a point not to touch her without permission, simply offering his towering presence to shield her. "Do you want to go to the hospital straight home?"

"Er, I think we should go to the hospital…" Ayako could hardly believe how blasé the tanned giant was being: he might have been a living mountain, but that much blood loss _couldn't_ be good for him. Even if she was fine, the man needed some bandages at least.

With a slight hum of acknowledgement, the giant fell into step beside her, his pace slow and relaxed so she didn't need to hurry as they headed back towards town. Despite the man's enormous size, his presence made the girl feel… safe, somehow. They walked at a steady pace for several minutes, the young archer's dizziness only slightly affecting her movements. For the friendly and outgoing girl, the silence was almost deafening. Ayako struggled for something to talk about.

"Thank you for saving me," she managed to say at last, completely unsure on how to act for the moment. The giant wasn't exactly the most talkative guy, but he was always kind and attentive enough to respond, not to mention stoic as hell to ignore all of those still-bleeding cuts. "My name's Ayako Mitsuzuri," she said with a slight nod in place of a bow, wincing from the stiffness settling into her neck.

"Yasutora Sado," he returned in his distinctive baritone rumble.

For his part, the half-Mexican known as Chad by his friends was just as uneasy as Ayako. Uryu had quickly departed after checking in on him and this girl, citing a spike in spiritual pressure from the far side of the bridge in Miyama. If Chad didn't know any better, he would say the Quincy just didn't want to deal with anyone unless necessary. At least it looked like the chestnut-haired girl was alright, if a little unsteady from her run-in with Lancer. It didn't look like the girl saw anything else, either. Her spiritual pressure was nonexistent, and she didn't even bother asking about any strangeness like Uryu's bow or Chad's own shield arm. However, this wasn't a case of just letting a person remain unaware of Hollows after a timely rescue: this girl not only saw Lancer, but neither he nor Uryu had managed to defeat him decisively.

There was a very good chance that the Servant wasn't through with Ayako yet.

Ayako mentally added "quiet" to her list of qualities in her newfound bodyguard. "So… where're you from?"

"Karakura Town, in Western Tokyo," Chad answered casually.

"Oh! Sorry, I assumed you were… well foreign," Ayako replied with a slightly sheepish laugh.

"Mm. I get that a lot. My Mexican half shows more than my Japanese."

"Mexico, huh? You ever been there?"

Chad nodded, unconsciously fingering the coin hanging on the chain around his neck. "_Mi_ _abuelo_, my grandfather, raised me there until I came to Japan."

Ayako grinned at that, imagining a small version of the giant beside her running around in a sombrero. "You said you were from Karakura. What brings you to Fuyuki?" despite his quiet nature, Sado was proving easy to talk to and genuinely listened even if he wasn't looking at her. Maybe he was shy beneath that burly exterior. And as long as she kept him talking, she could forget what she had just narrowly avoided.

"School project. A few of my classmates and I won a contest for a paid trip here for it."

"So which college are you attending?"

Chad mentally groaned, barely able to suppress the exasperated sigh from escaping his mouth. "…I'm sixteen. Karakura High School freshman."

At that, Ayako stared incredulously at the man for a moment before she blushed bright red and chuckled nervously. "Uh, sorry about that. It's just… well…"

Chad let a small smile quirk his lips. "It's fine. I get _that_ a lot, too."

Finding her rhythm, Ayako found it easier and easier to talk, sharing a few stories about her days in Homurabara High School. Chad, as was his way, quietly and attentively listened, trusting in his spiritual senses to warn of any encroaching danger. Thankfully the rest of the walk to the nearest clinic was quiet on that front. He and Uryu had managed to clean out several Hollows in the area beforehand, and it was likely that the Quincy would take the time to keep their path clear.

The clinic Mitsuzuri stopped at was a squat building set in a large lot, similar to the Kurosaki Family Clinic; a small-time establishment focused on minor illnesses and treating sports injuries. The graveyard shift was already winding down for the day after a thankfully dull night (from their mundane perspective, at any rate), but one look at Chad's numerous bloody cuts had the small team of nurses on staff ushering him to a treatment room for cleaning and bandaging. Ayako was surprisingly only slightly bruised, but its location at the base of her neck meant that it needed to be briefly checked for lingering damage. Fortunately Lancer had struck with perfect accuracy; within a day, there would be no sign of the attack at all.

After they left, Chad once more took up a position by Ayako's side, his presence easing her further. Finally, she got around to asking the question that had been bugging her for some time. "Hey, Sado-kun… I was wondering… how did you manage to hold off that guy back there? He was using some kind of spear..."

Chad shrugged, having used some of the time in the clinic coming up with a reasonably believable thing to say for this very occasion. "I used to get into fights with street gangs a lot because of my appearance. I know what to do against weapons."

"Wow… I can't imagine anyone wanting to pick a fight with you. You're a nice guy!"

"If you think that's bad, my friend used to get into fights because some disliked the fact his hair is naturally orange and he refuses to dye it," the giant admitted with a mostly bland tone, though there was a hint of amusement there.

"Orange? Seriously?"

Sado nodded with an affirmative grunt.

"Man, sounds rough over there."

"It's mainly because trouble finds us. It's normally a nice enough place." Chad shrugged helplessly.

"Gee, sounds like it," Ayako replied with a roll of her almost golden eyes. She was quiet for a moment, hands in her pockets while they strolled onto the bridge towards Miyama before she turned to Chad again. "Uh, I'm not keeping you from anything right now, am I?"

Shaking his head, the empowered human looked down at her kindly. "It's fine. It's more important I make sure you're safe."

Ayako smiled and shook her head. "Thanks, but I don't want to get you in trouble over me!"

"They'll understand." Chad's calm reply was so certain that Ayako couldn't say anything else on the subject.

Silence once more settled between them until after the pair crossed the bridge, where Ayako once more began regaling her largely silent companion with stories of her life in town, and some of the events she participated in as captain of her school's Archery Club. She even worked to coax a few words from Chad, who briefly told her of some of his friends from school, the small band he was in, as well as his parakeet.

At their casual pace, they made it to Mitsuzuri's home after sunup, signaling that classes were going to start soon. Ayako nearly gagged at the time displayed on her watch, obviously having gotten lost in the story-swapping. "Aw man, I don't know if I even have time for a shower!" she lamented from her doorstep. "Well… I guess I'll see you later, Sado-kun?"

The half-Mexican paused in thought for a moment before speaking. "I'll wait for you out here. I at least want to make sure you get to school safely."

Ayako nodded with a smile and headed inside. Now alone, Chad pulled out his phone and quickly flipped to Uryu's number. A few rings later, he heard the line open. "It's me. Things calm down enough yet?"

"Well enough. I can't sense Lancer, either. Any sign of spiritual awareness in the young woman? I would rather us not have a repeat of McRemitz-san's situation," the Quincy stated from wherever he was perched.

"Mm. Mitsuzuri-san hasn't said anything. Judging by her behavior, I'd say she's trying not to acknowledge what happened. I'm going to make sure she at least gets to school without incident."

"That would probably be for the best. With any luck, Lancer won't be active during the day for secrecy reasons."

Chad let out a slight grunt of agreement. Though most would never pick out the slight differences in his various hums and grunts, the young man's friends had long deciphered his unique language. "I'll mark where she lives when I get back, in case he decides to attack her tonight."

"Good thinking. I'll let the others know you'll be a little late getting back," Uryu replied calmly.

"Thanks. I'll talk to you later." Chad clicked the phone closed and exhaled through his nose in annoyance: while he was talking, a low-level Hollow had decided to try and sneak up on him. In the quiet suburbs, there were few potential witnesses at the moment, but it didn't change the fact that it was inconvenient. Casually swathing his arm in his black armor, Chad backhanded the masked beast hard enough to throw it back several meters before turning and striding purposefully towards its recumbent form.

Inside the Mitsuzuri residence, Ayako had a moment of quiet in her room to recall everything that had happened this morning; her dad had long since left for work and her mom was out back hanging the laundry. It was hard to believe; she was almost murdered at the hands of the murderous maniac in blue but, as insane as it was, Sado-kun almost literally swooped in to save her life. It was like something out of a manga! To be honest, she was expecting to drop into a panic attack any second after she came to, but the young giant's presence was a soothing balm against it.

Even afterwards, Sado was a perfect gentleman to her, shrugging off his own concerns to make sure she was safe and unharmed.

Ayako was a perceptive girl. Over the years, she had developed a knack for accurately judging people's character. Some set her teeth on edge at times, like a _certain_ vice-captain of the Archery Club; others put her at ease just by being nearby. Sado was definitely high on that list, right up there with Emiya.

From the sound of it, he had grown up on the rough side of Karakura town, but he still turned out pretty mellow. Again, it was hard to fathom _why_ someone would pick a fight with the gentle giant. As far as she was concerned though, Sado was an awesome guy. He was quite literally tall, dark and handsome, not to mention damn nice. Hell, he was one of those rare and treasured men that _listened_ when spoken to! It was almost too good to be true.

On her way to the shower, she considered the way Sado behaved, turning her memories this way and that over in her mind for signs of deceit, a hole in one of his stories, to see if he was just an honestly good person. Nothing sprang to mind contrary to that impression. She was apparently reaping some cosmic reward or something. In the end she couldn't see a reason to not trust him. Ayako at the very least wanted to learn a little more about him, though.

Once cleaned up, she swiftly threw on her uniform: a black knee-length skirt and a white button-up shirt with red trim along the collar and cuffs, over which a khaki vest was buttoned up. Through her collar, a red ribbon embroidered with gold thread was tied in a bow at the base of her throat. Glancing at the wall clock, Ayako jumped. Time was against her, and she barely had enough time to make some toast before she was out the door to meet Sado. She spotted him casually seated on the edge of a concrete island, the plants within still bare from winter. "Hey, thanks for waiting! Sorry it took so long!" she called cheerfully.

With a nod, Sado stood up. "It's no problem, Mitsuzuri-san." The giant once more fell into step beside the smaller girl, the Hollow he beat down having long since dissolved.

For her part, Ayako immediately started her questioning, listening raptly to his short and to-the-point answers. The only time that he really spoke more than thirty words in a response came when she asked about the golden coin proudly displayed on a fine chain around his neck. Sado almost reverently told her of his _abuelo's_ words and deeds back in Mexico and how they shaped the mellow teen.

"Wow… Your grandfather was an amazing man."

Sado nodded with a nostalgic smile. "Mm. I still remember what he taught me. I promised I would only use my fists to protect others, never for myself."

It was at this time that Ayako arrived at the school gates, pointing out the school's top-class archery range. "I've got club duties before class. Thank you for everything." She gave her escort a grateful bow, but noticed that Sado's dark eyes were focused on the building, his gaze mostly hidden in the mop of shaggy brown hair. "Something on your mind?"

After a moment, he responded. "Just thinking. One of my friends is an archer. He might be interested in the range for his project."

That brought an interested cocking of the eyebrow to the golden-eyed girl. "Really? He compete at all?"

"No. Our school doesn't have a formal archery program. It's a hobby."

"Too bad. I was wondering if I might have seen him at a competition," Ayako replied. "I'd better get moving. Archery Club practice is going to start soon."

"Mm. Take care, Mitsuzuri-san."

"Hang on a sec. Do you think… er, that we could do this again tomorrow? Just to be safe? If it's no problem, I mean," Ayako asked before Sado took a single step.

Sado mulled over it only for a moment before shrugging. "Sure. Got a phone?" In all honesty it was a good idea: if Lancer targeted Ayako again, being close by would hopefully make him think twice about attacking. If not, Sado was sure he could protect the girl until she got to safety or reinforcements arrived.

After trading cell numbers, Ayako waved goodbye and jogged towards the Archery dojo. With a slight wave of his own, the half-Mexican walked off, his mind instantly switching back to the real reason he had paused at the gate. The school's main building was a hotspot of spiritual pressure. Something was up, and considering the last time someone messed with spirit energy in this town, it definitely ranked high on the list of things to deal with once the sun went down.

When he finally returned to the penthouse, he noted that Ichigo was sitting at Uryu's laptop, his eyes slightly bleary. In spite of that, his awareness proved razor-sharp. "Hey Chad," he greeted absently, once again calling him by the nickname Ichigo gave by misreading a nametag while dazed from a fistfight. Sado had long since given up correcting his friend, and the name stuck as much as his actual name.

"Morning. Everyone else already switch shifts while I was out?"

"Yeah. Rider's still running around so I haven't seen her, but everyone else already either went to bed or went out to battle already." Something in his tone betrayed that the Soul Reaper had more on his mind, but he didn't say anything else.

Long association with the teen, especially through the last year, told Chad that Ichigo would explain once he figured out the right words, so he didn't press. "Mm. Take care out there, Ichigo."

"Right. Anything I should look into?"

"Keep an eye on Homurabara High School. I didn't have time to look, but something or someone with high spiritual pressure is there."

"Damn. Alright, thanks for the tip. Kon, wake the others up if anything happens," Ichigo called to the stuffed animal that was idly flipping through a magazine. Kon groaned in annoyance but complied, having seen the Hollows slithering throughout the city and the air over it during the morning. No way in hell he was going out there without a damn good reason! Just hanging around the penthouse was probably the smartest way to spend the day.

Once Ichigo's black-clad soul form leaped off the balcony and vanished into a Shunpo, Sado let loose a long, low yawn and finally slumped in weariness. Bed sounded like a wondrous creation at the moment, and the giant ambled over towards his room.

* * *

_WHACK!_

Stars exploded in Shirou's vision until the impact of his back against the dojo floor drove the wind from his lungs and blew the stars away. Despite outweighing the culprit of the attack by over thirty pounds, the teen might as well have been trying to outmuscle Berserker for all that it mattered. "Better, Shirou. That last attack was well-timed." Saber's calm voice declared from the far side of the dojo, her stance relaxing after her counterattack.

'_Considering how I feel right now, you wouldn't think that…_' The young magus sat up sharply, shaking his head and exhaling slowly for a moment while he regained his senses. Despite her small -more accurately tiny- size, Saber hit like a ton of bricks with the precision of a surgeon. While he was well aware of this fact from watching her fight and from their previous training sessions, every strike drove the point home of how far she was above a mere human magus like himself. Pulling himself back to his feet, he sighed. "Man… I thought I had you that time. I took all of your advice and put my all into that one…"

After school at his insistence, Shirou had stepped up his training regimen with Saber. He was almost feverish in his desire to build up his combat reflexes and learn as much as he could about handling a sword. Images of the outcomes from the last few battles were starting to wear more and more on Shirou's conscience with each passing day. From a logical standpoint, he knew deep down that there was really nothing he could do in the face of a Servant except run, but he was _frustrated_. He needed to accomplish more than just sit as a spectator and remain useless. After dinner, he still had his first session on magic with Tohsaka, who was more than happy to help educate the amateur.

And thus Shirou had spent at least an hour, probably longer, getting the snot beat out of him by Saber. "It is good you have taken my advice to heart and that you have such determination, but this is not a matter of overcoming me; it is about survival. You've seen several Servants in battle; you should know by now that to face one is suicidal."

"I know that, but just staying on the defensive won't get anything done. I have to attack sometimes."

"That is true. Still, you cannot put your life at risk for every attack. If you see an opening, you must judge how much of one you are being presented."

Shirou narrowed his eyes, reviewing the bout in his mind. "…So when you looked away, I overreacted to it?"

"Exactly. But you are much better than yesterday on the subject. Once you can sense danger instinctively, you will be able to find the right course in combat," Saber commented, clearly proud of her student's progress. "Let us take a break then."

Pulling his exhausted body to the far wall and dropped to the floor. Saber, still pristine without a single drop of sweat anywhere on her body, gracefully set herself on her knees in the traditional _seiza_ position at his side. Greedily gulping down several mouthfuls of water from the kettle he had set aside for this purpose, Shirou let himself relax as much as he could. Saber turned to her Master after a moment of peaceful silence. "You still seem tense, Shirou. Is there something you wish to speak about?"

Turning his eyes listlessly to his hands, Shirou clenched a fist. "There has to be more I can do out there. I _hate_ being on the sidelines like this."

Saber nodded solemnly. She knew exactly the kind of helplessness he was undoubtedly feeling. "I understand your frustration, Shirou. There were many times I also felt the same way in my lifetime."

If her words were an attempt to refocus Shirou's attention, it did the trick: His interest shifted instantly and his ochre eyes locked on Saber. Admittedly, it was an understandable reaction; Saber never really spoke of anything regarding her past life. "You did? Is that why you took up swordsmanship too?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes," she replied, her expression softening with remembered sorrows.

Shirou mulled over the notion for a moment, his focus distant. "Is that why Saber wants the Grail?" he muttered to himself after a moment. Perhaps she wished for something to be changed, a lost battle won, a person she failed to save returned…

He had forgotten just how sharp a Servant's senses were. "What was that, Shirou?"

"Oh, uh, I was just wondering… well, if that was why you're fighting for the Holy Grail, that's all. You have a wish you want granted, right?" Shirou's words appeared to catch the young knight off guard, her expression unsettled. "Well, if you don't want to say, that's alright."

Saber was unusually quiet. Her eyes were downcast, and Shirou suddenly felt a surge of regret pass through him. It was an extremely personal question, and he had dropped it with the subtlety of a sledgehammer. It wasn't as if Shirou knew what he would wish for himself, either.

"…Is that a command as a Master?" she finally said with a serious expression.

"N-no, nothing like that. I was just curious about you. Sorry…"

"It is fine. As my Master, it is your right to know: I want the power of the Grail to fulfill an unfinished duty from my lifetime."

Shirou was floored by her honesty and the seriousness of her words; they carried a grave weight that reminded the magus that he was in the presence of a legend, one who had undoubtedly seen and done more in one lifetime than a thousand men. "…You mean… from before you became a Servant…?"

"Yes. I am not sure how, myself. Perhaps I just wish to redo things again." She looked… lost as she tried to clarify what she hoped to accomplish.

It was a little much for Shirou, who desperately tried to lighten the bleak atmosphere. "I-I see. I was a little worried about how to handle it if you said something close to what Tohsaka might, like taking over the world or something."

Saber's soft chuckle and smile instantly made the dojo seem a little brighter. "Rin would be mad if she heard you. She might want to benefit from the Holy Grail's power, but she is not one to bring chaos to the world for it."

"Really? I never would have guessed that with the way she talks sometimes," Shirou joked with a shake of his head. The Master and his Servant spent a little longer in the peace and quiet before Shirou cleaned up and headed back the main house to start dinner, Saber a step behind.

* * *

Ichigo was annoyed. This in itself was a rather common enough occurrence, almost his default mood in a lot of cases. However, the source of his annoyance was usually a person or a particularly clingy ghost, the kind that refused to accept _konso_ until they had something done for them. This time, the target was a little more abstract. Right now, he was annoyed at the historical record of Greece's myths and legends. It didn't help that he had sacrificed a goodly chunk of last night's sleep in his attempt at getting the story straight.

It didn't exactly help that his dreams were significantly more vivid than before during those few hours of sleep he managed to grab, either.

Specifically, his ire was directed towards the stories related to Medusa. Basically every single version of her story seemed to abbreviate or footnote the fact that she and her sisters were innocent of any wrongdoing, and that the Greek gods turned the Gorgons' worshippers against them for no reason other than spite. Every major reference he found online focused on her status a snake-haired monster with a visage so horrifying that everyone to see it turned to stone.

Admittedly, that much was apparently true, at least at the most basic level. Still, the book the priest had given him the night of Rider's summoning offered a little more insight into the "whys" behind Medusa's appearance and actions than he thought possible. Last night, when he had opened it to Rider's profile, he was momentarily stunned by the sheer wealth of information unlocked in its pages. Her name proved the key to revealing her potential and her past. When he read the passages from it, images had constantly flickered across his mind's eye, small bits of his strange and often disturbing dreams. For some reason, though, he found impossible to demonize Medusa no matter how many times she was described as a monster. To him, she was no different from Hollows like Orihime's older brother, whose pain and despair twisted whatever loving emotions and reasoning they might have had. At least she apparently regained her heart at the end. Regardless, he needed to talk to her and not let them end up sweeping the matter under the rug.

His constant vigil during the morning and early afternoon hours meant that he couldn't find time to track the fallen goddess/former Gorgon, but he did manage to take the edge off his irritation by purifying several Hollows. It didn't really surprise him that the west side of the river had so many more than the east, but it was peculiar that the masked horrors congregated in specific areas rather than scatter like they normally would. There was a good chance they were all hunting for the various magi. It made sense, though whatever barriers they had over their homes confounded his senses as well as the Hollows' aside from the general area.

Though the numbers had undoubtedly dwindled in comparison to the first shift, Hollows continued to slither out of the Garganta from time to time. The ones within Ichigo's range were brutalized in short order, Zangetsu's edge almost howling in a reflection to Ichigo's emotional state.

Finally, with the streets of the suburban half of Fuyuki emptying of teenagers out of school for the day, there was enough of a lull in activity for Ichigo to use. Closing his eyes, he extended his senses in all directions, unconsciously singling out the spirit ribbons of the souls around him. Three in particular stood out: Tatsuki and Orihime's spiritual pressures were still close to the hotel, their greater power standing out easily amidst the normal humans around them. And from about a mile away, his Command Mantra helped him pick out Rider's location with the aid of her lavender spirit ribbon so abruptly that it almost made the rest of the ribbons fade from his focus completely.

With a distant look in his eye, Ichigo leaped up to a nearby rooftop and started towards his currently idle Servant at an easy pace by his standards… which roughly amounted to the speed of the cars cruising below. It didn't take long to find Rider standing atop a chimney facing off to the side, her hair rippling slightly in the breeze coming off the sea to the north. Turning her head slightly, the woman nodded to her Master, her posture a coiled spring, more so than usual.

At least now Ichigo had a good idea why. "Oi, Rider!" he called, alighting on the roof with barely a sound. "Been looking for you."

"Ichigo. Do you have orders?" she asked tonelessly. That lack of emotion bothered Ichigo far more than the words he had read about his Servant's past. She must have seethed over last night's non-reaction worse than he thought.

"No, no orders or any of that crap. I just wanted to talk for a bit," Ichigo gave a lazy shrug to go along with his words, but his spirit form was ready to take off in any direction if Rider tried to run from this.

Thankfully, the shapely Servant didn't move an inch. "Is this the best time for such a thing? Hollows are still coming through."

Ichigo gave her a flat look that summed up his opinion about the weaklings entering the city. "Then we'll talk while we move."

Rider turned very slightly, her hidden gaze boring into her Master's amber eyes, trying to pierce any motives or fears the young man had. By now he had to have looked into her past, but she couldn't make out anything from his expression. A small hole felt like it had formed in the pit of her stomach as she resigned herself to this conversation. "That would be for the best."

For a handful of minutes, the Master and Servant darted across the rooftops nearing the center of Miyama side by side, finding no Hollows within sight nor did Ichigo sense any in the range of his spiritual awareness in spite of the improved range he had received from Rider's contract taking most of his spiritual pressure out of the air. With a sigh of annoyance that Rider had clammed up, the orange-haired warrior broke the silence. "You know, you don't need to be so nervous about your past with me."

Rider said nothing, but he got the impression she was paying close attention. It was damn hard to tell with that blindfold, though. At least now he knew why she needed it…

Not getting any further prompt, Ichigo added, "If you're worried about the Gorgon part, I can tell you that it stopped mattering the moment you promised you wouldn't feed on souls."

"My word was enough?" Rider inquired softly, disbelief slightly bleeding into her tone.

"It's enough for me. To me, it doesn't matter where my _nakama_ comes from. Look, Rukia is over a century old and technically dead and some of my friends should be my enemies."

"'Should?'"

Ichigo sighed. "Stop here for a sec." Alighting on the roof of a small market, Ichigo sat at the edge, unworried about being seen at the moment. Rider stood close to the center of the rooftop, still as a sentinel while she waited for him to speak. "Not too long ago, I met some spirits who by all rights were my enemies, but by the time we met, they had stepped away and offered their help readily."

Let it never be said Rider was not perceptive. "You befriended Hollows?"

Ichigo smirked slightly. "Three of them, actually. Some do find a way to regain their reasoning; some of my strongest opponents fell into that category, but these three were kinder than many normal spirits and Soul Reapers I've met." The swordsman leveled a meaningful look towards the Servant as he explained his meeting with a trio that saved their lives in battle and stuck with them through the worst of the fighting, emphasizing their character in spite of their origins as hungry souls. "Even if they are Hollows, they're my friends. Do you get it yet? I could care less about what you did two thousand years ago or more. You haven't done anything to make us enemies since I… summoned you."

Rider still said nothing, but her posture shifted ever-so-slightly. Finally she spoke. "And the blood already on my hands?"

"Huh?"

"The lives I've taken are innumerable. You are a protector and I was a slayer of countless men."

"And the Greek gods were apparently colossal bastards for what they did to you and your sisters," he growled testily before his features softened. "You had good reasons for it though, right? I can't say killing them was best, but… you had to protect your family." It looked like it was finally starting to sink in, so he pressed on. "Maybe that's why I ended up calling _you_: both of us became what we are for the same reasons."

Standing from his seat, the Soul Reaper hybrid placed a hand on Rider's shoulder. "Look, the point I'm trying to make is that I don't care about who you were back then. You've done everything in your power to help us and haven't asked for anything in return, no matter what we asked of you. Here and now, you're a part of my _nakama_."

Rider turned her head towards the hand on her shoulder before focusing on Ichigo's sincere look. Her Master was serious about his words, a fact that quietly stunned the woman more than the time he had clashed with Berserker. The teen's reaction left her completely off balance, and she couldn't find the slightest tell that he was wary of her. "…It's strange."

Ichigo's brow furrowed a little at her soft voice. "What is?"

"How you responded to all of this. I don't think I've ever met a human in this life or in my previous who would say that in the face of my name."

Ichigo took his hand from her shoulder and scratched his head in his long-used nervous habit. "Yeah well, I apparently don't fit most people's expectations."

Rider smiled very slightly. "That is not a bad thing." It looked like the World had cut her a break when her Contract was bestowed to her Master. She could only shudder at the potential reaction other Masters might have had. "Thank you… for accepting me."

"It's fine." The Soul Reaper turned and put a sandal to the edge of the roof. "Let's get moving; think you can keep up?" he called over his shoulder with a smirk. He hopped off the roof to the south, an unspoken message passing to Rider with his actions. '_I trust you to watch my back._'

With a burst of speed, Rider took off in pursuit, a silent oath given in reply. '_I will repay that trust._'

* * *

Dinner turned into quite the event in a hurry. Shortly after the magus set himself to the task of preparing the meal, the ever-energetic Taiga Fujimura arrived with a near-roar. He honestly wasn't too concerned about it; Rin had come up with a decent enough alibi for them to use that would hopefully sway the older woman. He had to admit though: Taiga's reaction to Rin's presence was amusing (not to mention terrifying in some strange way) in hindsight.

At first, the woman had given the model student a speculative look, oddly civil until Shirou started laying out the food. "Good evening, Fujimura-sensei," Rin greeted easily.

With a slow, mechanical nod, the woman returned the greeting. Her brow was slightly furrowed as she tried to make sense of the newcomer to the household. Once Shirou started to fill her bowl of rice, Taiga leaned in to whisper, "…Hey Shirou, why is Tohsaka-san here?"

Shirou attempted to cut to the heart of the matter and push past this problem so he laid things out as simply and clearly as possible. "Tohsaka is staying here for a while. By the way, have you seen Sakura?" He made sure to make the question follow the statement immediately, giving Fuji-nee as little time as possible to process the information.

"Sakura? I haven't seen her today. She stayed home sick, I think," both teacher and student's hearts went out to the younger girl, having long grown to like the plum-haired girl's kind heart. Fuji-nee plucked a slice of salmon roe from the center tray and quietly ate. All was quiet save for the clinking of utensils and dishes.

For about three seconds.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN 'STAYING HERE,' SHIROU?"

Said boy felt like his hair was being blown back from the force of the "tiger's roar," his body jerking violently in surprise. "Agh! W-w-what are you doing Fuji-nee? You're spilling everything! It's hot! Ow!"

The formerly calm schoolteacher was now a whirlwind of energy, her voice picking up speed. "SHUT UUUUP! What are you thinking, Shirou? What kind of romantic comedy are you in, letting a girl stay here? This isn't funny!"

"I'm not playing around at all," the redhead defended even as he plucked a few loose bits of food from his clothes. Of course, the teacher pounding the table only compounded the problem, a piece of steaming hot fish slapping him in face. "You know I'm not one to joke like this."

"I object! I don't know what you're up to, but Onee-chan will not allow it!"

Just trying to endure Taiga's rage was enormously taxing to the poor magus, and Tohsaka's patient silence didn't exactly offer him much help. "It's not like either of us has any bad intentions. Her house is not safe to stay in at the moment, so I'm letting her use one of the guest rooms as a result. I'll listen to what you have to say, but my decision stands."

"SHUT UUUUP! I CAN'T ALLOW IT! I don't know Tohsaka-san's circumstances, but make her go home at once!" Taiga's roar once more assaulted Shirou's ears, almost enough to make them ring.

Finally, _finally_ Rin bailed him out with a lovely smile and calm words. "Sensei, I have already spent a night here without incident."

And with that, it was like someone had snuffed Taiga's furious energy like a candle. All she could get out was a strangled "Eh?"

"It's true. I spent last night in the outbuilding, and everything worked out well. I don't even know Emiya-kun that well, and yet he was willing to help until the house is finished being remodeled. It's an old building and is a little unsteady. Emiya-kun's offer of the room was surprising, but it helped me immensely."

"…That does sound like something Shirou would do," Taiga admitted slowly.

Rin, with all the skill and careful word traps of a good salesman or politician, slowly picked apart Taiga's objections until she reluctantly agreed to the arrangement, at least temporarily. Afterwards, the spilled dishes were cleaned up and dinner resumed. Shirou was quietly thankful he had opted for less sauce and had forgone the soup after all. Cleaning that up would require far more effort, not to mention the idea of hot soup splashing on his lap amidst Fuji-nee's earlier vigor definitely didn't sit well with him.

For several minutes, dinner progressed without further incident, Fuji-nee's remaining energy focused on grilling both him and Tohsaka for information on the circumstances and setting ground rules like a reliable guardian should.

The longer this atmosphere built up, the worse Shirou's gut felt. The meal was fine, the company good, but without Sakura, without…

He stood up and almost marched out the dining area. "What's wrong, Shirou? Bathroom?"

"No, there's something I need to get. I'll be back in a sec," he called, noting the blank expression on Rin's face.

It bothered Shirou more than he expected, not having Saber there. With Sakura and Fuji-nee, there was always a sense of warmth, of family at the table. Without Sakura, there was a massive hole in her place, and this only exacerbated the guilt that had built up over the last few days every time he sat down for a meal with his little family.

Saber lived under this roof, fought and bled for him, saved his life many times already, and yet she always remained in the little side room whenever anyone was over like an outcast. If he thought about it rationally, he would likely never go through with this, so he didn't let himself think, simply taking her small hand the moment he arrived at the small space that made up her sleeping quarters.

"S-Shirou? What is going on?"

"Don't worry about it, just come on. I'll introduce you to Fuji-nee and get it over with."

"Have you gone insane? Wait, hold on…" her protests fell on deaf ears as Shirou pulled her along.

"I'm perfectly sane. That's why I'm doing this. I can handle anything that comes from this later," Shirou declared stubbornly as he led the startled girl into the dining room. "Take a seat anywhere, Saber. There's enough for one more."

Tohsaka didn't see anything, but she did give a slight sigh of resignation. Taiga stated with wide-eyed astonishment on yet _another_ woman entering the room.

"Let me introduce you. Fuji-nee, this is Saber, and she's also staying here, albeit for a different reason. As you can see, she is a foreigner and is unused to Japan, so please treat her kindly," he stated while gathering dishes for Saber to use. "Here you go Saber. It's better we all eat together."

Still reeling from Shirou's sudden forcefulness, Saber only managed to mutter, "That…certainly is more efficient but-"

Shirou cut her off with a kind but insistent smile. "It's fine Saber. You're here in this house; there's no reason you shouldn't sit and enjoy the meal with everyone else rather than waiting on us."

The combination of Shirou's words and the smell of freshly cooked cuisine won out, and Saber visibly settled into her cushion. "…Yes. If that is what you want, then I shall obey."

Finally, Taiga reacted. "YOU CAN'T DO THAAAAAT!" this time, her thunderous roar _did_ make Shirou's ears ring. "First Tohsaka-san and now this new girl? When did this place turn into a hotel?" she demanded, though her breath was short and worn-out. Two rants in one day was apparently too much for Taiga at the moment, especially after having a moment to calm down before needing another surge of overprotective rage.

Long used to her antics, Shirou calmly responded. "Relax a little, Fuji-nee. There's plenty of room here. What's one more room in a place this big? You already approved of Tohsaka, so Saber should be fine, too."

"Tohsaka-san is one thing, but this person's a perfect stranger! Who is she, anyway?" Fuji-nee's tone dropped slowly as she tried and failed to muster up the energy needed to go into another rant.

"She's… an acquaintance of Kiritsugu's," he managed to get out, praying that would be enough for the weary Taiga.

"Like I'd believe that! There's no way Kiritsugu-san would know someone overseas…" Taiga slowly quieted down and closed her eyes in embarrassment. Both she and Shirou knew that given the man's traveling habits, he likely knew more people outside Japan than in it. Clearing her throat, she wisely shifted targets. "What are you doing _here_ anyway?"

Saber had yet to even take a bite of her meal, having observed the rather… explosive reaction from the exuberant woman. After a moment of silence, she answered in her soft voice. "I do not know specifically. I was merely doing as Kiritsugu asked, to protect Shirou from all enemies." Her reply was utterly honest, for protecting Shirou was indeed the truth, one that Fuji-nee, for all her fire, couldn't casually dismiss.

Taiga narrowed her eyes for a moment, before huffing and tiredly slipping back into her seat. "Alright, I'm going to let you join us tonight and tonight only. Tomorrow I'll be back and I'll want to test that conviction of yours!"

"Test her convic- Fuji-nee, you're being ridiculous!" Shirou sputtered.

"No, this is too important, Shirou! We'll settle this later, but I need to make sure you're in good hands, even if Kiritsugu picked her!" With a stubborn pout and a glare on her face, Shirou got the impression that his legal guardian and homeroom teacher was going to dig in on this issue. The matter was closed as far as she was concerned.

Beating Saber in a spar was more likely than swaying Taiga Fujimura's mind in this state. With an explosive sigh, he shook his head. Finally, dinner commenced in earnest, with Saber quickly getting over her confusion enough to begin eating with her typical implacable pace. Both Rin and Shirou found a sort of disturbed fascination with watching the spectacle, especially since Fuji-nee attempted to keep pace with Saber throughout the meal and failing. Her earnest effort would be considered endearing if she was doing something other than eating…

With a sluggish gait and a stomachache, Taiga gave Saber one last glare as she departed for home after dinner finally finished.

"Well, now that that's taken care of, it's time for a magic lesson, right Tohsaka?" Shirou called back cheerfully, only to see Rin giving him a flat look. "Yeah, I know, I did something stupid again."

Rin flicked one of her pigtails over her shoulder. "I wasn't about to say anything. It's more weight on your mind, not mine."

Shirou winced at that. The way Saber gave him an indecipherable but piercing gaze reinforced that she probably agreed with the assessment. "I'm sure you'll want to ream me for it later anyway. But for now, what's next?"

The two magi and the Servant reconvened at the now cleared table and sat down. "So first off, I need an update. Is that Boundary Field still at school?"

Startled at the sudden edge to Rin's expression, Shirou had to take a moment to think. "I guess… I kinda got used to the pressure it put out so I mostly ended up ignoring it. It wasn't any stronger, though. Why? Did something happen that I didn't notice?"

"Not really, but after last night, I'm worried about it. I took another look at it during lunch and it's still waiting for whatever target it has in mind. I don't like the idea of another Phantasmal Beast popping in on the roof of our school. I think we should put the magic lecture on hold and deal with it now," Rin explained.

Shirou closed his eyes and thought about it. There was a good chance that the Boundary Field had the same maker as the one where the monster appeared, but he couldn't be sure. The last time they went out Saber… unbidden, images of a masked maniac cutting Saber down entered his mind, joining the image of Saber after Berserker nearly killed her. "So how do you plan to do that? What if it's defended or worse, activates?"

"We'll need to do this quietly unlike last night. You can sense spirits, so I'd be counting on you to tell me if any get close. The moment you sense a strong spirit approaching, we have advance warning and can abort if we have to or fight if we think we can win. I can try and break the array once we're clear."

"A sound plan. It does not suit me to hide in the face of battle, but it would force the enemy out into the open," Saber agreed.

"Actually, it might be better if you stay here, Saber," Rin added, much to her allies' surprise. Knowing that Saber wouldn't take kindly to it, she hurriedly explained her logic. "I know you'd rather be on the front lines, but this plan requires us to draw as little attention as possible. If you're there, we run the same risk as last time by charging out in the open. If you could astralize, it would be different. But if push comes to shove, Shirou-kun has yet to use a Command Spell."

Saber glared coldly at the pigtailed magus, saying "Do not speak so lightly of such a thing," before turning to Shirou, who shifted guiltily at his numerous shortcomings as a Master. "I will obey if that is what you believe must be done, but know that it is not wise for me not to be near."

It took a moment for Shirou to reply as he considered his options. Eventually, his desire to help in the conflict and keep Saber out of danger won out over what he knew was the safer option for him. "Let's do it Tohsaka's way. Even if it is riskier, this is something I can do. Don't worry, I know my limits well enough," he said, recalling how easily Saber could smack him around. Any Servant he encountered would likely be too much for him, but with Archer and Tohsaka, Saber might not need to fight at all.

"I should not need to say this, but do not hesitate to call me to your side if you need me," Saber told him earnestly.

"I will. Hopefully we'll be back in a few hours without needing to fight at all yet."

It didn't take long for the two magi and Archer to start moving after that. Shirou made it a point to grab a wooden sword from the rack in the dojo, wrapping it in cloth and Rin only needed to gather a few tools and put them in a small satchel before departing.

Archer was quiet during the entire conversation and subsequent run, his eyes alert for danger. He would never say it, but ever since last night, he had felt increasingly uneasy. Long experience with Murphy's Law and war told him that this mission was doomed from the start.

The actual approach to the school was silent and actually safe. Shirou never sensed a soul with any real power behind it save Rin and Archer. The more experienced magus of the two deduced that if a presence couldn't be detected through their combined powers, it wouldn't be a threat unless it was Assassin, and the odds of the demonic swordsman leaving the mountain and lying in ambush seemed small, especially so far from the temple.

In spite of her assurance, all three were wary of every shadow large enough to hide a foe. The night sky was largely overcast, the high winds playing with the clouds and with them any light that slipped through from the moon and stars. The result was an extremely eerie atmosphere that only grew more foreboding the further from the road and its street lights they got.

The spiritually gifted magus could feel it now: the aura of raw prana thick and heavy in the air that swirled outward from the rooftop and its Boundary Field. It was like being in caught between two fans, the unseen energies pushing against him slightly from both front and behind as the field constantly recycled the prana. "It's the same… nothing's changed at all today," Shirou murmured.

Rin let out a small hum of acknowledgment before scanning the area. "Do you either of you sense anything else?"

"No," Archer and Shirou replied almost in sync, causing both to instinctively glare at the other. The school's doors were all locked up tight, but they posed little obstacle for Archer, who slipped through the door, materialized and popped it open before vanishing again. The two magi crept through the silent halls until they reached the second floor, Rin called for a pause. "Shirou-kun, hang on a moment. I'm going to need to make some preparations, so you head up without me. I'll join you once I'm ready."

For Rin Tohsaka, the natural peak of her powers was at two in the morning, the strength of her spells waxing and waning throughout the day. 2:00AM was still a few hours away, so to compensate Rin brought with her a few of her prana-charged gemstones and tools for her ritual. Though it would a rush-job, it was still far better to use a magical tool than to directly meddle with another magus's Boundary Fields, especially if Caster turned out the culprit behind them.

"Alright." The redhead silently took stock of his surroundings, his night vision barely giving him anything to work with as he crept further up the stairs, his every sense tuned to their maximum. It didn't take him long for him to reach the last landing before the rooftop exit. He was about to open the door when the air around him suddenly warped, like it was contorting in pain. A heavy, dark presence had entered whatever range his newfound spirit senses had and arrived at the school in seconds, so quick that he didn't even have time to inform Rin before it settled directly outside. Had the creator of the Boundary Field sent a guardian, or was it the magus responsible? For several moments he held his breath and waited for the figure's dark aura to recede or approach the door. It did neither.

Biting back a curse lest the newcomer sense him, he closed his eyes. As dangerous as it was, he needed to see who had taken up vigil. '_Trace, on,_' he mentally intoned. Instantly, the world around him faded away until only he and his magic existed. '_Basic structure: analyze._' Within his mind's eye, the wooden blade's entire structure built itself bit by bit until he had a full model of every part of the weapon, every flaw and strength laid out before him. '_Reinforcing._' Od flowed from his Magic Circuits into the weapon with an unusual ease, as if in response to his genuine need for it instead of simply for practice, filling in the uncountable gaps within its structure with magic and girding it with supernatural durability. Opening his eyes, the _bokken_ looked no different despite its enchantment, but the simple sword was now as durable as any steel sword, perhaps even more so.

To say he was feeling confident with the mystically charged _bokken_ in hand would be a massive overstatement, but at least now he wasn't unarmed. Slowly, he crept up the rest of the pitch-black staircase. Every step sounded far, far, FAR too loud to his ears, and he mentally cursed at every creak and scuff of the floor. At the top of the flight, the rooftop exit might as well lead straight to hell with the intensity of the foreboding he was feeling. Slowly, he tightened his grip on the sword and turned the doorknob.

* * *

Rider frowned upon seeing the magic circle flaring with a power she instinctively recognized. '_So this is why this place felt strangely like Ichigo,_' she mused irritably. When Ichigo and Rukia briefly described their encounter with the monstrous Hollow and the mysterious field that trapped and relocated it, she didn't like the sound of someone manipulating Ichigo's energy to trick such a creature to come through from its own realm. If there were more Boundary Fields like this one and the one at the park wherever Ichigo exerted his power, it wouldn't take long for the other Masters to attack him and his friends, thinking them responsible.

After she and Ichigo returned to the penthouse shortly before sundown, Rider was briefed on the various target areas scouted by her Master's companions while she was out hunting Hollows almost non-stop. Of particular interest was the high school that Chad discovered an aura at. It was the same one she, Ichigo and Rukia had stopped at on their first patrol together if she recalled correctly. Once more, the group split up, this time with Ichigo covering northern Shinto and Ishida the south. She and Chad were asked to keep watch on the southern half of Miyama, while Rukia, Orihime and Tatsuki took the north. This division was the widest yet, especially with the threat of Masters and Servants attacking at night. At the same time, this also meant that there might actually be progress at finding them in the first place.

Being far faster than Chad in crossing the bridge, Rider had taken it upon herself to investigate this particular point of interest right away. From the looks of things, it was a wise thing for her to do. She wasn't sure of its purpose, but the fact that it was incriminating her Master was bad enough. She wouldn't stand for it. She really wanted to find whoever rigged these accursed things, hang them by her chains and gouge out their eyes for their machinations. After being so completely accepted by her Master, Medusa felt that anyone who tried to cause him harm deserved no less.

The sound of footsteps skidding to a halt at the door to the rooftop caught her attention. _'A witness? How irritating,'_ she mentally sighed. Under a more typical Master, Rider would likely drink the witness's blood, leeching away their souls and giving her a boost in prana in the process. Thankfully for the witness, her Master was anything but normal, and prana was in abundance. Perhaps just knocking him out and waiting for Chad so they could take the witness to the penthouse… _'Huh.'_

From the way the options were playing through her head, Ichigo was apparently rubbing off on her more than she thought. It did certainly helped ease her conscience knowing that Rukia could replace memories, though.

A slight surge of prana gave the boy's nature away, especially at this range. "A magus. I see." The long-haired Servant turned to face the interloper, her expression devoid of emotion especially with her eyes hidden behind the Breaker Gorgon. In truth, Rider didn't believe for an instant that this startled boy was shrewd or skilled enough to take advantage of Ichigo's power in such a complex manner. At the same time she had a feeling that this one had a clue to what was going on, perhaps an ally of the magus who cast the spell. If either one was a Master, so much the better. "Tell me: what role do you play here?"

"Are you a Servant?" he growled back at her, his ochre eyes unusually intense for one so young. For a moment, Rider could see this boy as a distorted mirror image of her own Master. His face was more boyish, the eyes were lighter and his hair was darker, but he had a similar defiant posture and that fire in him.

Rider didn't respond right away, her lips turning upward in a small, cold smile. "If you know that term, you must know of the Holy Grail War. You are a Master, correct?"

Shirou gulped at the sight of the statuesque woman across from him. His first question was rhetorical, given how his Command Mantra burned on his hand the moment he got close, but what kind of Servant looked like _that_? She was very tall for a girl, actually a few inches taller than him from the looks of it, and extremely beautiful. More obviously to him though, was the intense aura of danger she exuded. There was a predatory grace around her only made worse by the crushing aura she was pushing against him with her very presence. He felt like a mouse before a hungry snake. A very beautiful, elegant, highly venomous, hungry snake.

He steeled his nerves for battle, tightly gripping the Reinforced wooden sword in his right hand and focusing on the woman. One split second of inattention and she'd tear him apart. "You're the one who made that Boundary Field, aren't you?" he demanded, struggling to keep his voice clear and defiant against the pressure bearing down on him.

Rider considered toying with his perceptions, but he was a Master; there was a good chance that he would call his Servant if she played too much. "Interesting. That would have likely been my first question to you, magus. It seems that you are not. However, there are still things I need to ask you."

Watching for the slightest twitch of warning, Shirou lifted his sword carefully into a guard position. He almost didn't react in time when Rider did move. Saber might have spent time beating proper reactions into him, but that could only help so much when his Servant had to hold back to give him a prayer of seeing what she was trying to demonstrate. In less than an eye-blink, she had covered the twenty feet between them, her long chain encircling him almost completely by the time his meager human body moved.

The young magus threw himself to the ground, the chains releasing a serpentine hiss when they closed over his head. Without even thinking about it, his body was already rising to swipe at the Servant. He needed room. Even if it just caused the eerie woman to take a half-step back, it would better than his current situation. A flash of silver arced to meet his weapon mid-swing. With a resounding _CRACK,_ the Reinforced weapon snapped messily in two. The feat of strength shook Shirou to his core. The woman didn't even look to strain to break the weapon. A solid steel pole would have likely snapped before the _bokken_ did!

Worse, the woman had slipped behind him, cutting off the stairwell before a swift kick blew him off his feet and onto the roof proper. The woman had held back immensely; nothing was broken, but she still had blown the wind from his lungs and sent him sprawling. "Now then," her silken voice sending a cold chill down his spine. "What will you do, magus? There is nowhere to run."

Clenching his jaw and tightening his hold on the broken weapon, Shirou staggered to his feet, feeling distinctively uneasy with the woman before him and the Boundary Field at his back. Every one of his senses, including his spiritual sense and the danger sense Saber had pounded into his head were screaming at him, telling him that to fight this woman was suicide. Slowly, he skirted to the side of the roof, his back no longer directly to the gently pulsing barrier. '_Damn it, this is bad… Hurry up Tohsaka…_' All he could do was stall for time, hoping that Archer and Rin would arrive soon.

"If you will not speak here, then I suppose there is no helping it," Rider stated after a moment of silence. Her dagger lashed out again, this time aimed to strike his sword arm. It was a lazy throw by her standards, but Rider wasn't aiming to kill, merely disarm and shake the boy's nerve.

The broken half of his _bokken_ snapped up to intercept the dagger, only for it to shatter in his hand from the force behind it, slivers of the magically charged wood slashing his flesh. Still, the dagger failed to pierce him, and that was enough. The boy's left arm instinctively came up to shield his face from the flying splinters. His eyes briefly flicked to the red symbols that marked his Contract.

'_Saber…_' He didn't want to use them, but there were no other options. "I order you…come to me! SABER!" he all but roared to the air, his hand blazing bright as Rider hopped back instinctively.

Both Servant and Master could feel it: the pulsing thrum of massive magic at work as a Command Spell burned away, folding space in a whirl of white light and releasing into their midst the battle-ready form of Shirou's Servant. Clad in blue and bearing the unquestionable weight of nobility behind her sharp emerald stare, the atmosphere in the school changed instantly. Where before Rider's presence filled the air with a predatory dread, Saber's aura spoke of power and brightness like the sun.

Rider's entire focus shifted to the newcomer, her single chain-dagger joined by its partner as she lowered herself slightly. Her stance was defensive this time. '_How irritating. I underestimated him…to command the Saber…_' Rider didn't let the slightest bit of discomfort show as the blue knight closed her hands around something unseen. On the plus side, the Saber was widely considered the "most outstanding" of the Servant classes. Perhaps Ichigo would enjoy facing her in battle, should she live up to her reputation. '_A test, then_.'

"Servant Rider. It is an honor to cross blades with the vaunted Saber, though I expected you to be... taller," she stated with just a hint of sarcasm, silently evaluating the small knight's reaction to her barb.

Saber did not even so much as twitch, her voice cool and calm. "Shirou, are you alright?"

"Y-yeah." Shirou's focus was once more on the woman in black. If she was indeed the Rider, was Berserker's Master lying about there being another swordsman? Logic stated that it was likely the case, but some instinct didn't let him shake the feeling that there was more to it. "Just a few scratches."

"Please give me an order, Master," Saber said calmly while Rider's body tensed.

"Defeat Rider." No sooner that the words left his mouth that both Servants sprang into motion. Saber's first attack screamed through the space where Rider once stood, her fine control allowing her to spin and lash out towards the lavender-haired Servant dashing towards the edge of the roof. The taller of the two women lashed out with her daggers, sending the arcing chains to skewer Saber from two sides from mid-air.

Saber didn't even bat an eyelash as she hopped back, the chains arcing to chase as if they were living things. With a powerful leap, the Knight of the Sword shot straight towards Rider and over the chain daggers, her invisible sword already in motion to take Rider's head. Though unable to gauge Saber's weapon, Rider leaned her body back and felt the air over her nose sliced by the blade before she let gravity take over. With a pull on her chains, Rider rearmed herself just in time to turn aside the overhead slash Saber brought down on her.

Rider's blades cracked even as the strike sent her back to the rooftop, her legs barely able to absorb the shock. Now both in close range, Saber brought her full might to bear on Rider, every strike sending shockwaves through Rider's body from head to toe. Only constantly repairing her blades with her prana kept the weapons from simply falling apart beneath Saber's relentless assault. Even with her speed and agility, there were very few moments where Rider could attack in reply. The blue knight's movements were straightforward and ferocious like a lion, while the dark Servant's own were graceful and sinuous like a serpent.

Saber's intense focus and long-honed instincts saw every one of Rider's lightning-swift attacks and allowed her to move with the flow of battle, but even then, the taller Servant evaded just as many attacks, her devastating kicks, even when turned or dodged, were used to build up momentum and evade Saber's next strikes. Rider was skilled, as a Heroic Spirit should be, but it didn't take long for it to become apparent just who was the better melee combatant between them.

The battle harkened back to that first night for Shirou: Saber's strength was once more taking control of the battle, just like it had against Lancer and nearly done to Archer. He was no expert in battle, but he could see the way Rider strained to evade and parry Saber's attacks, his own Servant showing no mercy in attempting to crush the curvaceous woman.

Rider brought her blades up to block another strike when she smiled very slightly. With a thought, her daggers vanished just before contact with Saber's sword and she leapt back. Overextended, Saber bit back a curse, readying herself to intercept a kick. It never came.

With no warning, Rider jumped up and landed on the top of the chain-link fence that rimmed the roof gracefully. The abrupt disengagement brought Saber up short, watching the woman warily. When Rider suddenly jumped back and off the roof in a full retreat, Saber felt slighted. "Master, should I pursue?" she called back quickly. The tension in her voice came through loud and clear

Shirou was worried about Rider's abrupt retreat, but something in him knew that Saber wanted this fight. Her pride had taken a beating the last few battles, and she genuinely had the edge this time. To hold her back would likely drive her to rebellion. "If you can catch her, do it. I'll be right behind you."

Saber offered him a slight smile of approval and a crisp nod before tearing off into the night. The Master wasted no time bolting for the stairs, homing in on where he left Rin and Archer. Sure enough, still partially translucent in his astralized state, Archer was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. Opening one steel-gray eye, he glanced at him, took note of his slashed hands, and sighed. "What happened, kid?"

"The Rider showed up. Saber's already fighting, but Rider started running. I think she might be trying to draw her into a trap," he blurted out in a rush.

Archer had to fight to keep his teeth from grinding together. "Tch. Perfect," he snorted irritably. "Rin's still in the middle of her work. She can't move until she's done, and I'm not leaving her undefended."

Despite the building urge to tear out his hair, Shirou wasn't about to ask Archer to interrupt any sort of magical ritual. Magic was a powerful and fickle thing: one mistake could easily kill even a seasoned magus, especially if they attempted to leave a ritual unfinished. "Look, just tell her the Rider got involved and that Saber and I are trying to take her down."

"…Fine. It's not like it'll matter to me if you waste the life my Master has been trying to protect."

The magus wanted to strangle the currently intangible bastard _so_ much, but he couldn't afford to stick around any longer. Images of Saber's last two battles flickered through his mind. The Command Mantra on his hand would guide him towards the battleground, and so he ran through the halls and out the door. He could only hope that nothing more happened while he was out in the streets.

Rider smiled slightly in amusement as she leaped down and slipped into the shadows between buildings. '_Yes, she is very good… she'll be a good challenge for Ichigo should he desire it,_' she mused as she darted further down the street. Saber was a powerful warrior, and without using her Noble Phantasms, Rider doubted she would have been able to best her.

As long as she kept to the shadows, Rider was confident her speed would allow her to escape. If she could astralize she would have, but as Ichigo had told her, the sheer amount of untamable power flowing into her would not be restrained: it constantly replenished her strength and healed her wounds whenever she had time to relax, but it also constantly kept her form manifested. A minor inconvenience at worst, though.

She had landed in an alleyway near the bridge when a sudden cold dread washed over her, and she stopped just in time to avoid the silver meteor of Saber almost taking her head off from on high. Saber was far quicker than she anticipated.

"It is a cowardly thing, for a Servant to attempt to flee from battle," Saber declared coldly, her emerald eyes blazing.

Rider slid back a half-step and readied her daggers. "It is not a cowardly choice when battle was not originally intended." She leaped straight up, once more taking to the roofs with Saber on her heels, not even slowing when Rider's knives lashed out towards her neck. Her invisible sword was indeed a pain.

It normally would have taken Rider less than ten minutes to reach the far side of the bridge from the school, but this running battle stretched that for many times longer. Even when she zigzagged up and down the various buildings and then the cables on the bridge towards Shinto, Saber was utterly relentless. Several times they clashed while running, Saber's greater strength and swordsmanship countered by Rider's agility and greater range with her chain-daggers.

Her greatest advantage though, was that Saber could not cling to walls like she could. Still bound by gravity, Saber had a harder time the higher off the ground they fought. Saber had obviously noticed as well, often attempting to cut Rider off, or in half, whenever she attempted to run up a telephone pole or the side of a building taller than two stories.

After nearly being sent through a tree by a near miss, Rider knew that her opponent would likely hunt her down to the ends of the earth unless she happened upon Ichigo or a few of his comrades. The chances of that were too low for her to try, and Saber was still in hot pursuit.

'_There!_'

Up ahead, a towering office building would give her every advantage she needed to end this fight. Rushing at top speed, she widened the gap between them, only stopping once to mercilessly deliver an unexpected kick to Saber's midsection, sending her flying into a car and collapsing the steel around her. Even such a swift attack didn't hold Saber for long; she somehow sensed the attack before it was launched and intercepted it with the flat of her blade. Not even bothering to look or leave a parting comment, there was no need with a foe as relentless as Saber, she ran up the wall as if it were an open field.

Rider's best weapons were not suited for combat on the ground. The constraints placed by streets and buildings meant that to wield her full power, she needed space where none would interrupt them, nor could she conceal herself from the eyes of any others. So high up, with so little room for her foe to dodge, she would be able to end this battle with minimal risk. In a way, it is a more knightly than most other Servants: at her full strength, there could be no hiding, no sneaky tricks: just her, her foe, and her ultimate weapon.

Down below, Saber extricated herself from the ruined vehicle and glared at the ascending streak of purple. Rider's actions were not premeditated, she had deduced. In spite of running towards more suitable battlefields and adapting to take advantage of her strengths, Rider did not appear to be leading her anywhere until she spotted this tower. Either way, she couldn't let this one escape. After everything that had happened, for a Servant to run from combat with another was infuriating!

With a mighty jump that took her nearly a dozen stories, Saber gave chase using the window ledges to continue her ascent, determined to end this fight here and now. Rider easily made sure that there was always a gap between them, refusing to let her enter sword range and using her greater sprinting speed to stay ahead.

Several times, Saber had to slow and catch herself on window ledges as Rider threw her knives with pinpoint accuracy, the weapons attacking often from both the left and right simultaneously. "It appears you are not suited to fighting in high places, Saber," she heard from higher up. Rider had set herself on her hands and knees with an almost spider-like stance, her hair falling around her but never getting in her way. It was as if gravity meant nothing to her. A useful and irritating skill.

Again, Saber could only pursue, Rider still darting ahead.

When she finally arrived at the rooftop, Saber's eyes widened. Rider was standing in the center of the rooftop and less than thirty feet away, a single knife in her hand. Saber could only stare in mute shock when the Servant _slashed her own throat_! With a great hacking cough, the woman's blood poured from the wound with unnatural pressure, staining the concrete beneath her feet. Such a wound would kill all but the most powerful of Servants, but even they would fall if left unattended. The slight smile that played along Rider's lips told her that such logic did not apply here.

A flash of red and white light filled her vision as a mystic circle appeared in the air, the blood hovering and shifting into every rune, line and symbol before unleashing magic so intense that Saber's skin almost burned just from being so close to it. The wall of magic expanded, flaring and opening until it took the form of a vast staring eye.

Instinct took over and Saber released a wall of wind from her sword, the sealed cyclone surrounding her blade pressing against the incoming assault.

She was almost blown off the roof by the rush of white light erupting from the circle. "Kuh-" She could only gasp as the light arced upward and around the rooftop before coming to halt, the light fading enough for Saber to make out what had nearly shredded her and powered through a hurricane gale.

White wings of soft feathers opened and gave off light like a second moon. The creature is a magnificent white steed, one only spoken of in legend. Even in her time, the Divine Mystery before her was nothing more than a myth. Rider sat atop the steed that served as ultimate proof of her Class with a slight smile, her legs resting on the creature's wings.

A Pegasus. Rider's mount was a creature so magically powerful that its lifespan was extended to be measured in _millennia_. Such a creature would need to have as much magical power as a dragon to live so long. Whoever Rider was, she came from an era where gods and monsters walked amidst men.

"Impressive reflexes Saber. I did not think you would have been able to dodge at that range." Rider's voice was utterly calm, as if she were stating the weather. Her hand tenderly stroked the magnificent creature's mane. "In truth, I was hoping that you would have stayed back and allowed me to leave in peace. It seems your hunger for battle exceeds your good sense, though."

Saber narrowed her eyes. As dangerous as facing such a creature was there is still more to watch for: when Rider summoned her steed, she did not invoke its name. Her summons was just another power of her lifetime. Her true Noble Phantasm had yet to be revealed. "To bring something like that to battle… Your deeds must have truly been profound."

"Perhaps. It matters little in the here and now, though. For all of your power, you cannot even touch this creature." With a beat of its vast wings, the beast's magical aura burned brighter and it dove towards Saber with an eagle-like scream.

The silver-armored knight can only dive and roll from the encroaching wall of destruction. Even with her resistance to magic, the sheer power behind the Pegasus chipped at her, burning through her defense. Saber bit back a curse, panting for breath as the white comet arced up and around.

Another charge nearly crushed her beneath the Pegasus's hooves when a door leading to the emergency stairs slammed open, revealing the exhausted and haggard form of her Master. "Shirou! What are you doing here?" she demanded, pulling herself to her feet.

The boy looks about to respond and run to her side when his pupils dilate, the presence of such intense magic assaulting his senses. It takes him no time to hone in on it. He visibly paled at the sight of the Pegasus hovering over the rooftop.

Saber's options were suddenly gone. She could no longer take the time to look for the perfect opportunity to end this battle. With her Master here, one charge from that Phantasmal Beast could destroy the building. Even if it would only inconvenience Saber herself, Shirou could not survive a building collapsing under him. The only course left was to destroy her foe and the Pegasus in one strike.

First though, she would have to unveil her true blade. "Wind…"

* * *

Shouldering his oversized cleaver, Ichigo scanned the area. Chasing and purifying the slippery Hollow had taken him outside the large urban center that made up central Shinto, and now he was standing atop the backstop of a Little League baseball field that made up the majority of the grassy space. This part of the city was only sparsely lit by the streetlights running behind the small bleachers and the moon peaking through a small hole in the clouds, the heavenly orb almost completely full save for a thin black crescent.

Ichigo turned to head back to the city proper, when his left hand began to burn. The sudden, intense pain brought his attention to the offending limb. While this feeling had only happened once since the Command Seal's appearance, this searing sensation could only mean one thing: a Servant. Narrowing his eyes, Ichigo scanned the immediate area.

There, hovering almost lazily behind second base, a certain ponytailed man in blue smirked at him, his spiritual pressure spiking from his materialization. "Yo, Berry Brow!" he called jovially, one hand set on his hip while he lifted the other in a casual greeting.

The younger teen's eyebrow twitched at the legendary hero's less-than-flattering nickname, but a slight grin worked its way onto his face regardless. "Lancer… I was wondering if we'd ever get that rematch," he called back clearly.

"Same here, kid. Looks like Lady Luck's bein' kind to me for once." Lancer's easygoing tone contrasted eerily with the building savagery in his crimson eyes as he stepped forward a few feet. "Think you can play with the big boys without your Servant butting in at the first opportunity?"

The knight's raised hand stretched out to his side and curled around a space of empty air. With no sign of where it came from, Lancer was instantly holding the crimson spear that proved his Class. With a casual flick of his wrist, he spun the spear into a more comfortable grip while his body shifted into his stance: shoulder facing his foe, legs wide and his posture slightly hunched like a beast ready to pounce. The spear's tip pointed to the ground ahead of his feet, and the butt of the weapon was up near the level of his rear-facing shoulder.

Ichigo smirked, appreciating the blue marauder's directness as he hopped off his perch. "I think so. My question is are _you_ ready for me to crush that pride of yours?" Ichigo's spiritual pressure flared in anticipation, briefly wreathing him in blue-white flame and disturbing the air before he assumed his straightforward stance, waiting for the first move.

Lancer had stopped just inside the diamond of exposed dirt while Ichigo stood near home plate. The distance mattered not: both warriors were confident in their speed to catch the other off guard.

The silent moment in the night stretched longer, the field going completely still between the two warriors as if the world was holding its breath for the clash to come.

The two warriors heard no signal, yet they shot towards each other at the same instant, the shadows swallowing almost all of their features save Ichigo's fire-colored hair and the crimson needle that was Lancer's Noble Phantasm.

The flurry of motion that followed their meeting atop the pitcher's mound was the stuff that gave rise to legends: Zangetsu's heavy edge moved with a speed and grace that contradicted its mass, sweeping with all the crushing power of an axe but switching from attack to defense and back again as if it were nothing more than a rapier. Lancer's spear diverted the incoming cleaver smoothly, blending offense and defense into every motion and lashing out in a crimson blur towards his opponent, his lithe form weaving around Ichigo's attacks with all the grace of a hunting cat and at speeds no mere human could ever hope to match.

Lancer's despicable Master had only commanded him to "Fight against everyone. But do not defeat them. Survive the first encounter against any opponent." The absolute order of a Command Spell bound his strength and speed against every foe he had thus far encountered.

The order didn't apply to Round Two.

This time nothing held him back. This time he was free to test this kid's limits against his own. Right from the first exchange, he attacked slightly faster and slightly more aggressively than in their previous scuffle in the construction yard. As expected, Ichigo easily kept pace, his eyes betraying no surprise at the blue knight's increased abilities. "For someone so easy to pick out of a crowd, you're a pain in the ass to find," Lancer mentioned suddenly, his tone relaxed and friendly even as he leaped into the air and kicked off the fence post behind him, his spear slicing through the air with the intent to punch clear through Ichigo's skull.

"Oh really? I could say the same for all of you Servants," the teen grunted as he stepped away from the crimson blade's nearly supersonic thrust, slashing downwards at the Heroic Spirit's crouching form only to meet empty air. '_He's getting faster… I might be in for an actual workout…'_ Ichigo thought, a smirk working its way onto his face.

Their combined ferocity and agility kept them both constantly on the move, neither fighter willing to let the other gain any kind of reprieve. The momentum between them changed every few seconds, sometimes advancing for the kill, sometimes slipping away from vicious onslaughts before pushing right back with their own counterattack. Gae Bolg flicked in and out at every lethal target it could find, almost screaming for blood as it whistled through the chilly air, all but invisible to the naked human eye.

Thankfully Ichigo was not fully human. He countered in kind, his arms beginning to burn from the strain of matching the Servant's striking speed with just his shikai, and even then he found himself relying more on short bursts of Shunpo to evade that spear tip more than just catching the blade against Zangetsu like normal. He gave as good as he got though, his crushing strength forcing Lancer to dodge every blow lest his arms collapse from trying to hold the cleaver back.

Lancer's grin threatened to split his face in two at the abilities of his opponent. The fire-haired warrior obviously had some serious practice and his combat reflexes were superb. While the kid was much, much stronger than Lancer himself, he lagged a bit in the skill department in comparison. To call him a novice with a blade would be horrendously insulting, but he obviously was used to just crushing his foes with raw power rather than trying anything like feints or secret techniques. The kid's every move was simple and straightforward; the basics taken to new heights by experience and raw power. He attacked to kill, blocked and dodged to protect himself, and never let even the slightest trace of fear enter his body or mind. _This_ was how a fight between warriors should be!

So far, his Master hadn't called him back, and he was going to milk this fight for everything he could! After all, who knew when the next chance to cut loose would be? He sped up again, darting in and out of Ichigo's range and launching an even faster barrage of lethal strikes.

For his part, Ichigo rarely ever felt this exhilarated in battle. The first time he fought this particular Heroic Spirit, he had only gotten the barest hints of the man's skills. Lancer was unbelievably fast and agile, capable of acrobatics so absurd that the number of Soul Reapers or arrancar able to match them could be counted on one hand. Oh if you wanted to get technical the stronger Captains and Espada had greater power and movement techniques that surpassed anything short of teleportation, but Lancer… Lancer was not only unbelievably nimble and decently strong, but he was _phenomenal_ with that spear. Sometimes it seemed like the Servant was in two places at once, leaving the Vizard warrior feeling like he was parrying a stab from behind while simultaneously watching that legendary spear slash at his eye. Every advantage he had in power and strength were almost countered completely by this guy's refined and battle-tested technique. He was _that_ good.

On top of that, even his faster foes almost never attacked as swiftly and as relentlessly as this red-eyed battle maniac did. Most of Ichigo's opponents lashed out with enormous power, but their actual swinging speed was somewhat limited unless they traded away their stopping power. Lancer launched over a dozen lethal blows in under two seconds with absolutely no loss in power!

If the Knight of the Spear was a bit more powerful, Ichigo might have used Bankai on him and _really_ put this guy's abilities to the test. Then again, considering that every exchange had Lancer upping his speed in both attack and evasion, unleashing the full power of his sword might still come into play, and Lancer might very well still keep up!

It was so _new_ to Ichigo. He had never fought opponents with this much _pure skill_ with their weapon until the Holy Grail War drafted him. Most of his foes used the power of their zanpakutou and their special techniques as much as their actual swordsmanship. Even Byakuya and Aizen put emphasis on using the special abilities of their swords and kido in battle over such sublime mastery of their weapon. Lancer didn't have those options aside from the trump card that was his Noble Phantasm's ultimate move, but he still could give him an interesting fight.

It was unreal, and damn it, it was _fun_!

Only once did Ichigo falter in the battle: a sudden, violent pull on his spirit energy distracted him for a fraction of a second, a brief image of Rider atop a white Pegasus flashing through his mind before instinct dragged him back to the fight. "Eyes front, kid!" Lancer taunted, the cursed javelin in his hands already less than an inch from Ichigo's ribcage. The bearer of Zangetsu flickered away with a Shunpo to avoid the stab, and the opened gap it gave him vanished almost as fast as it had opened up when Lancer leapt at him, spear raised high. The ring of steel on steel filled the park, taking on an unearthly echo in the otherwise silent and open field.

Lancer spun his spear so swiftly over his head that it imitated a crimson circular saw, the barbed blade grinding noisily against the younger man's sword with every rotation. With a sudden twist of his body, Lancer turned the spinning blade into a full-body swing, his amber-eyed opponent letting the blade skirt across the edge of his cleaver before jumping clear. "Trust me kid: if I had my way, we'd be doin' this kind of thing way more often!" he declared while charging in to renew his attack.

The Servant was already moving faster than the average lieutenant-class Soul Reaper using Shunpo, and he was still accelerating. Ichigo could still keep up at the moment, but it was getting rather absurd that Lancer didn't even seem to be pushing himself yet. With a well-timed leap, Ichigo broke Lancer's attack routine and almost slashed him in two when he came back down. The beast-like Servant allowed the force of the blow to glance off Gae Bolg and leaped over a thirty feet back while Ichigo drove his blade into the ground with a thunderous BOOM! "Good to know!" Ichigo shouted as he accelerated into a Shunpo.

Lancer spun completely around and swung Gae Bolg, forcing his foe to pause mid-step and parry the pole-arm. All the young warrior could do was bite out a curse before Lancer stabbed out towards him again. In under a second, the blue marauder launched over a dozen attacks, the blade almost impossible to see: a crimson bolt of light and nothing more, and yet Ichigo always remained unscathed, flickering across the baseball field with his Shunpo or foreseeing the strike through pure instinct and experience.

"Man! I figured that last one had you!" the Servant laughed when Ichigo came to a stop near home plate. "How long can you keep this up?"

Ichigo smirked back at him, his furrowed brow giving his expression a cool, sharp edge. "Longer than you, I'd bet. Sure you don't want a breather before I beat the crap out of you?"

The man famed as the Hound of Ulster chuckled almost merrily before his crimson eyes hardened to murderous slits. "Think I'll pass, Berry Brow. If this is all you've got though, it might get boring for me," he said before spinning the lance in his hand and lowering himself back into stance. That last exchange confirmed it to Lancer: aside from that space-jumping trick, Lancer was the faster one of them right now. He was forcing the kid to "jump" more than he was intercepting the blows, and he could still go many times faster. The part that bugged him was that the boy didn't seem to care that he was outmatched. The swordsman obviously noticed the difference between them, but there was never any indication that Ichigo doubted his chances at victory. '_Idiot's holdin' out on me…_'

Lancer had stopped near first base. The gap between them was about fifty feet; pretty much negligible to the two inhumanly powerful warriors. Ichigo lifted Zangetsu to his preferred stance, the smirk on his face drifting into a serious frown while Lancer narrowed his eyes, Gae Bolg's tip pointed towards Ichigo's feet. Ichigo took the initiative this time, leaping forward and holding his cleaver high with a roar. The Servant smirked and jumped to meet him at the apex of his flight, reduced to an ultramarine blur from his impossible speed. His charge surpassed any of his previous moves in every way. The air beyond the tip of his thrusting spear screamed as Gae Bolg broke the sound barrier with ease.

Ichigo's sword arced down to meet the blade head-on, the boy seemingly uncaring of the sure-kill spear's minute adjustments to bypass the blade, taking full advantage of its notably greater range. For a split second, the crimson blade shrieked from its numerous barbs grinding against the side of the black cleaver.

And then Ichigo was behind him with the hiss of displaced air from another Shunpo. Lancer barely had the time even with his agility to twist himself, face the teen's incoming swing and put Gae Bolg in the way before he was blasted back to the ground. Allowing himself to tumble end over end from the force of the blow, Lancer tucked his body in and gained enough control to land on all fours like a beast, though he could feel his bones creak from the strain of the impact. The samurai-kid really was a powerhouse! In spite of, or perhaps _because_ of the pain shooting through his limbs, he couldn't help but grin toothily at his unexpectedly powerful opponent.

Ichigo couldn't believe it. Not only had Lancer reacted in time to block Zangetsu from a horribly overextended position, but he managed to land completely unharmed from the fall! It was a small miracle that his spear hadn't shattered from the hit!

He chastised himself for thinking the Holy Grail War would be a simple affair like fighting Berserker's mindless assault. In fact, he should really have expected all of the other Servants aside from Caster to fight with this level of skill. In a way, Lancer was actually tougher than Berserker for the simple reason he _could_ think beyond "smash and kill" while fighting. Ichigo slowly brought his zanpakutou in front of his body again, kicking off the pad of spirit particles beneath his feet and vanishing into another Shunpo.

Lancer jumped straight up, letting the suddenly-there Soul Reaper's cleaver pass under his feet while swiping the spear at Ichigo's chin in the process. The moment the spear looked to touch Ichigo's skin, the boy vanished again. The Servant snapped his head to the right, crouched and swept his leg low while stabbing the air overhead. Having jumped to evade being tripped, Ichigo reappeared with his body twisting sharply to let the spear tip pass dangerously close to his chest, the barbs taking small bits of his _shihakushou_ with them. Lancer himself had to flip back to evade Ichigo's follow-up spinning slash with Zangetsu before Ichigo blurred out of sight again.

This dance continued for almost a full minute, Lancer's enormous skill keeping Ichigo from landing a decisive hit, while Ichigo's raw power and Shunpo prevented Lancer from doing the same. Finally, Lancer slammed into Ichigo just as he reappeared, leaving the deputy unbalanced for an instant before he pushed Lancer into a stalemate.

When the soul-forged blade of Zangetsu finally deadlocked against the legendary spear, Lancer grinned widely and savagely. "After so many shitty days, getting a chance to fight you again is a damn godsend, Berry Brow!"

Ichigo's couldn't help but let his confident smirk return as he shoved the crimson-eyed killer back with his overwhelming strength, Lancer almost gliding back to land over twenty feet away. "That right? Well then, don't let me disappoint you!" he shouted, bringing his cleaver down and to his side and charging, Zangetsu's edge ghosting a hair's breadth above the ground.

The blue knight stabbed the crimson lance straight at Ichigo's throat, his smirk never fading in the slightest when the boy didn't stop charging, seeming to shift a few inches to the right without breaking stride. As the cleaver swept in, Lancer kicked off the ground, inverting his body and passing over Ichigo's head, stabbing Gae Bolg downward towards Ichigo's neck and shoulders. The crimson rain of strikes somehow appeared to lash out at every possible target all at once! The Soul Reaper crouched and inverted his grip on the zanpakutou, twisting his wrist to put the flat of the nearly unbreakable slab of spiritual steel between him and that lance. Sparks exploded off the black sword, which wouldn't give in the slightest despite the ferocity of the volley.

Lancer finally completed his flying arc, landing in center field with eyes alight with an almost manic excitement, one that Ichigo had seen many times in the past. '_He'd fit right in with the Eleventh Division_,' he mused, almost fondly recalling the Soul Society's resident squad of fight-happy lunatics before his attention flicked over the beast-like Servant's shoulder.

In the distance, atop the tallest tower in the city skyline, a golden light blazed at the base of a tornado that reached into the heavens. A streak of white light like a comet pulled up and away from the building, and then turned back towards the cyclone as if to challenge it. Even from all the way out here, the spiritual pressure of the golden star completely swallowed the white comet's own.

Something in Ichigo's blood went cold at the sight, a premonition of impending destruction. Under most circumstances, Ichigo would have considered his fight with Lancer more pressing, but a sudden foreign sensation of distress intruded on his thoughts, turning his stomach with sensations of futility, disbelief and even awe. It didn't even feel like it was his own emotions acting up though, more that they were coming from outside his mind and impressing upon him their intensity. What could possibly…

'…_Rider!_'

The pieces all snapped into place within Ichigo's mind: Rider was fighting out there against another Servant. He could feel her, intrinsically knowing that the white comet had to be Rider and her Noble Phantasm through his contract. The wielder of that golden tornado was going to annihilate her in one fell stroke, and she knew it!

Eyes shooting wide in horror, Ichigo refocused on Lancer just as the beastlike warrior stabbed the barbed blade at the space between his ribs, the Servant's expression one of clear annoyance and impatience. "Berry Brow, you're seriously starting to piss me off. Quit spacing out on me or I _will _kill you!" he snapped, leaping overhead to attack from behind.

"…Sorry Lancer…" Ichigo started slowly, his zanpakutou weathering the assault from the spear that attempted to reach around and pierce his back even as he turned to keep Lancer in his sights. His eyes flared with an icy blue light that overtook their normal amber color, cold and resolute. "…but I can't stay anymore."

Then Lancer's whole world went black in an instant not even he could follow. A massive torrent of darkness had whirled outward from Ichigo's hands, swallowing his vision and blasting him with what felt like a solid wall of prana. No, more like drowning him in it. The blackness that encircled him carried an oppressively heavy weight to it: an unnatural amount of magical energy as wasteful and untamable as it was potent and overwhelming.

"Ghk!" There was no warning. No ripple or fluctuation in the darkness to tell him where the boy was, but he would never have seen it in time even if there was such a cue. The shaft of Gae Bolg was suddenly, violently slammed into his chest from a massive impact, blasting Lancer off his feet and out of the miasma of liquid darkness and back into the clear-lit night. He couldn't recover from the blow at all, crashing clear through the wood and chain-link of the backstop with the force of a cannonball, distending the structure and almost ripping it from its foundations as he passed through it. The Servant felt his body bounce against the hard ground once before gravity caught up to him and gripped him in its claws, sending him into a chaotic tumble that nearly ripped his arms and legs from their sockets. He instinctively banished his spear, rolling with the momentum and skidding painfully to a halt on his back, his armor just managing to keep him from being skinned.

He lay there for a moment, stunned before he groaned out, "…Ó, mo chreach ag thiocfaidh. Cac nimhneach seo…" With an agonized jerk of his head, he looked down his body and between his feet. The kid had blasted him well over three hundred yards in one strike, and if his senses were right, that tiny streak of all-consuming darkness about a mile away was him. How the hell did he do that? What kind of gods-cursed magic let some mortal schmuck reach that level of speed and power?

"Cad atá ar domhan... díreach a tharla?" he muttered to himself in his native tongue, still reeling and unable to make any kind of sense out of what just happened.

The sound of footsteps from hard-soled shoes dragged him from his stupor. What kind of dumbass would be brazen enough to walk up to him when he was in such a suddenly pissy mood?

Letting his head fall back and tilt up a little, he found that standing over him, concern and confusion writ large in her wide burgundy eyes, was Bazett Fraga McRemitz, his former… no, his _real_ Master.

His _DEAD_ Master.

"…Lancer?"

"_Master_?"

* * *

Bursting from the spirit energy that had concealed his form, Ichigo rocketed towards the highest tower in the city, every meter passing under his feet with agonizing slowness. No longer was he clad in the traditional black _uwagi _and white_ kosode_ of the Soul Reaper, but a pitch black ankle-length coat, the lowest edge ragged and tattered, that cinched at his stomach before flaring outward to reveal the dark red lining within. In his hands, the cleaver was replaced by the familiar night-black katana, Tensa Zangetsu which he held with its tip pointing behind him. With the massive surge of speed and strength his Bankai lent him, he had swatted Lancer away to keep him from pursuing and left him behind, covering a full mile in less than seven seconds. Every second brought him closer to his overmatched _nakama,_ but not quickly enough.

'_Dammit, I'm not going to make it!_' he mentally screamed, the two coronas of light that marked the Servants still miles away.

Even with his almost unrivaled speed, time was running out. The golden light atop the roof surged even brighter, growing into a shining ray barely held in check by the wielder's will. '_No! I'm NOT letting this happen! RIDER!_'

Urahara's words rang through his head at that moment. He, along with Zangetsu, had told him to abandon his fear; to overcome it and not let it enter his sword. Even if he was genuinely terrified of failure, he would have no prayer of accomplishing his goals if he let fear sap his resolve. If he didn't want Rider to die, he wouldn't let her die. There was no place for fear; it was a luxury he simply could not afford.

Instead, he pushed himself even harder, his legs burning as if caught in a Cero.

Still not fast enough.

Darkness blossomed around Tensa Zangetsu's blade, swirling from black flames into a steady stream that pushed him even faster through the sky. The ray of heavily-condensed spiritual pressure expanded more as he simultaneously prepared his sword's signature technique within it. The intensity of his flight reduced him to tunnel vision, his only target the office building that Rider was arcing around.

Ichigo's eyes widened as the light began to move, beginning to curl in a fashion disturbingly similar to his Getsuga Tenshou.

With one more violent push of spirit energy to swath his whole body in shadow, Ichigo's form became a black meteor, the exact opposite of the white light that signified Rider swooping over that rooftop. It would be far and away the longest Shunpo he ever dared try, and the first time he did so with the extra push from his sword's power working like an afterburner, but he _would _make it, screw the risks!

Crushing, sharp agony lanced through his entire body, his form accelerating until only the sudden appearance of a black stream in the night sky from the edge of Shinto to its center marked his passage to the spiritually aware. He could feel his muscles tear and his bones creak from the extreme speed without his mask, but he grit his teeth and endured it. The pain was driven into the back of his mind (he had felt much worse in the past) in favor of focusing solely on his destination. Whoever thought to harm his _nakama_ would pay.

_Severely_.

* * *

Rider's last pass again failed to slay Saber, whose sword continued to release tremendous wind pressure all around her blade which now openly shined gold beneath its many layers of bent light. Pulling around for another charge, Rider's mouth tightened in a thin line. Even while unleashing this much power, the Knight of the Sword was a nimble foe, rolling away from her steed's pass at just the right instant to avoid being trampled by the Pegasus's hooves and her mystic defenses barely warding away the magical energy around the white Phantasmal Beast.

She could barely hear the smaller girl's defiant words over the raging howl of the winds. "You said no one would see us up here, did you not, Rider?" she called out, the storm of wind intensifying one final time, slowly exposing the true form of the Saber's treasured blade. "I feel the same way. Here, I will not need to worry about scorching the earth!"

And with the last of the light-bending air peeling away, Saber's Noble Phantasm manifested, the full scope of its magnificence revealed to all at long last.

The sword in her hands was over four feet long and surprisingly simple in terms of design: a straight blade almost as wide as Saber's gauntlet, its hilt thin and long enough to comfortably wield in two hands. The crossguard was an arc of gold, inlaid with simple chevrons of blue on each side, and an elegant blue langet inscribed with a golden cross protruded up the blade by almost a hand's length. The entire sword glowed with a golden radiance as if its creator had reached up and captured a ray of the sun within the metal.

Rider couldn't hear the awed whisper of the Master sharing the rooftop, but his shock was as pure as the light of that sword, the holy blade demanding respect, even deference, with its very presence.

Neither Servant had it within them to back down from this final exchange. Saber tightened her grip on the shining sword and drew it up and behind her. Rider snapped the Bridle of Chivalry, spurring her raging steed to greater speed with its eagle-like shriek sounding through the air as its warcry. The white light of the Pegasus's magical power expanded to swallow up the entire rooftop. This time, Rider would not pull up. She would tear the entire rooftop apart to stop Saber's attack, defeating her and her Master in one charge.

Saber inhaled deeply, the sword's light growing more intense until it seemed to explode in her hands, becoming a furious convergence of light that obliterated all darkness before it: a holy sword of unsurpassed strength. It was the greatest light of the planet, a song of hope made manifest in its shining glory.

"…EX-"

In that very instant, Rider knew the depth of her mistake. There was no victory to be had by trying to match the divine light flaring to life before her. She was too committed to the attack, though. She could not possibly escape in time with this much momentum behind her. Very well. Even if she could not overcome it, she would face it with all of her strength. She would not take a single step back.

"-CALIBUR!" The Knight of the Sword's roar shook the air almost as much as her sword as she slashed the surging light down with a sound akin to a ringing bell. The invoked sword's power responded to her will, bringing forth a promise of victory when defeat looked inevitable. To an observer, it was like the sun had landed atop that tower and thrown a tiny portion of itself at the insignificant comet approaching it. The hundreds of yards between them burned away almost instantly between their charges.

The golden light carving through the darkness towards her was a beautiful thing to the former Gorgon's eyes, even if it signified the end of her short time in this world.

'_Ichigo… I'm sorry… I couldn't repay your faith…'_

And then, between the comet and the sun, a small figure clad in absolute darkness appeared. Even with his back to her, even with the long coat replacing the familiar black robes, Rider immediately knew who stood in the air, a katana the color of obsidian raised over his fire-haired head. "ICHIGO!" Rider cried out and jerked Bellerophon with all of her strength, the Pegasus's wings snapping open as she tried desperately to keep from crashing into her Master's back.

The boy's aura blasted furiously around him and his sword, a black inferno that surrounded his blade with the same kind of unstoppable intensity that Saber's sword displayed. "_GETSUGA!_"he thundered, the air rippling as his power pressed out against the world in all directions. "_TENSHOU!_" Tensa Zangetsu sliced down in an inversion of Saber's own attack: a screaming, twisting ray of utter blackness that merged with and darkened everything near it, eating away at the light that made up the two attacks in front and behind its wielder.

When the two forces collided, it was as if the void between stars was coalescing in an attempt to push back the sun itself. Absolute light and all-encompassing darkness exploded against each other, the shockwave of their collision shattering the windows on the upper floors of the tower and rattling those below. The sheer magnitude of the attacks before it shook the white horse's body and opposed its momentum. With a growl of effort, Rider pulled harder on the reins, the Phantasmal Beast's whinnies and shrieks drowned out by Rider's focus and the roar of power assaulting her ears while her lavender hair whipped wildly in the turbulence.

The corona of light around her steed dimmed as she slowed, the shockwaves of the competing forces rippling through the Pegasus's wings. And after one last agonizing moment, the winged horse passed just over Ichigo's head with its legs tucked just barely high enough to avoid scorching the teen with its aura of magical power. Rider banked as hard as she could after that, pulling away from the wall of oblivion holding back Saber's radiant assault. She could only watch in stupefied awe as Ichigo, a teen granted such power in his short life by fate and willpower, held a near-stalemate with a legend passing from the heights of humanity's memory.

Ichigo's arms shook with the effort of resisting the Noble Phantasm's enormous blast, his mind taking on a deadly calm as he poured more power into the black torrent erupting from his katana. The coruscating darkness pressed down against Saber's power with the full might of his Bankai.

And yet, not matter how much power he threw at the golden light, he couldn't push it back even in the slightest. He had almost completely stopped its advance, but slowly, inch by painfully given inch, the Noble Phantasm's holy light pushed closer. "Tch…" Ichigo leaned forward against the force and began to growl deep in his chest, his feet digging into the air and creating a light mist from the disturbed spirit particles. _'Hm? I'm easily exceeding this thing's spiritual pressure and it's still advancing… Is this that "Authority" issue Rider mentioned?'_ He could feel the golden sword's spiritual pressure push closer, the last twenty yards between them slowly grinding away no matter what he did.

Down below, the magnificent line of light from Saber's true Noble Phantasm, the legendary sword Excalibur, nearly blinded Shirou and overtook any sign of Rider's charge, and the revelation on what that meant for Saber's true identity nearly shut his brain down.

Excalibur: the holiest of holy blades, a weapon that was more than merely blessed by the gods or Elementals. It was a Last Phantasm, a truly transcendent sword that was created not by a blacksmith, but out of the collective wishes of all of mankind. Crystallized as the Sword of Promised Victory, no manmade weapon could stand in its presence and not be humbled by it. It was only ever wielded by one figure. No other had since claimed it from the Lady of the Lake.

That wielder was King Arthur Pendragon.

And then, all thoughts on what this meant for him and Saber were pushed to the back of his mind when, to his eyes, the night sky looked to swirl angrily above the golden destruction roaring towards it. The redheaded magus's head pounded with an overwhelming feeling of dread before the line of light… violently stopped. A void-like blackness collided with the sword's spectacular release of energy and sent Shirou sprawling with its oncoming shockwave. The intensity of the blasts pinned him to the rooftop despite his struggle to regain his feet. The best he managed to do was pull himself against an air conditioner unit and prop his head against it to watch the night battle the day. From his angle, he couldn't see if Saber's light or this new darkness had the advantage.

What kind of being could command such heavy, furious blackness?

Saber had not seen what unleashed the power of darkness to oppose her sword, but there was no way the Rider was capable of it. If she was, this attack alone would have overwhelmed her before Excalibur could be drawn. Did this mean the Caster saw fit to intervene?

"Ghg-!" In the end it really didn't matter. What did was that someone was holding back her sword, stalling its advance even if it lacked the ability to halt it. Digging her armored boots into the concrete so hard it started to crack and buckle beneath her and her attacker's fury, Saber pushed even more of her magical energy into the sword still held at the end of its swing. "HAAAHHH!"

Excalibur advanced almost two full meters all at once, the blackness thrashing wildly against it like a cornered animal before it too surged to reduce its advance to a crawl, though it could never stop it, every inch a little easier to gain than the last.

'_Just a little more… just a little more and this battle will be over…_' Saber repeated like a mantra, pouring her remaining strength into the golden radiance. And still, the darkness refused to be purged.

Then, just as swiftly as the power of the holy sword had fired, it collapsed. Saber's strength and prana reserves had almost completely run dry, and the light of her attack exploding through the night sky with a long, bell-like ring with the last surge of her strength. The dark power that had opposed it so stubbornly scattered with the light, filling the night sky with concentric arcs of light and shadow before they dispersed into an ominous silence.

With the oppressive pressure on his being fading, Shirou slowly pulled himself to his feet. His entire body felt like someone had tried to push his bones out through his shoes, but he managed to slowly stagger forward towards his Servant still standing in the center of the rooftop. Saber stood defiantly, her gaze lifted towards the moon and her sword forcibly held before her in a guard position.

Before the boy could ask if she was alright, the blonde knight spoke. "Shirou, this battle is not over. Stay back." Her level voice was quiet and weary, but still carried the steel of a leader behind every word.

The magus quickly followed Saber's emerald glare to catch what had put her so quickly on guard. His vision briefly blurred, barely able to understand around what he was seeing. One thing was certain though: it was powerful in the same way Berserker was; an unstoppable force of nature made flesh. To the spiritually aware human, the massive outpouring of super-dense spiritual pressure skewed his perception, amplifying his fear.

Standing in mid-air overhead and almost a hundred yards away with the moon at its back, a lone figure regarded the Master and Servant with the kind of cold fury of an arctic wind. Even from this distance, the figure radiated power and a dread chill that had nothing to do with the high altitude. Now that he was looking at him directly, Shirou could _feel_ through his special senses the danger this figure posed. Everything about him was dark and overwhelming, from the enormous aura of power that cloaked his form to the intensity of his faintly shining eyes bearing down on him and his exhausted Servant.

Shirou couldn't look away from him at all, not even to blink. It was like trying to breathe in a vacuum, his heart and lungs struggling as if constricted. Nothing else around him registered in this tunnel vision but the figure and the sensation of crushing spiritual force he exuded akin to the moon settling on his shoulders.

Distance muddled the details of the figure's features to the magus-in-training, but the enhanced senses of a Servant allowed Saber to get a good long look at the swordsman staring her down. His was not an arrogant gaze, nor a crazed one. No, his glare was one of controlled fury, of fierce pride tempered with experience and purpose.

He had the appearance of a young man, hale and strong, but the intensity of his eyes, which were amber in color but burned from within with tongues of ice-blue flame, combined with the way he held that black sword spoke of a blooded, worldly warrior devoid of fear or uncertainty. The figure's outfit bore no armor, and vaguely resembled Assassin's samurai garb from the waist down. The coat flaring outward in the high winds was longer though, more ragged and form-fitting at the shoulders and arms. Aside from his almost inhumanly intense eyes, the most attention-grabbing feature was his hair: short, spiked in random directions and a shade of burnt orange almost the same as a roaring flame, an illusion enhanced by the wind ruffling it under the moonlight.

The sword in his hand was at its most basic level the same shape as Assassin's: the slender, curved blade slightly longer than a normal katana but made of a black metal that almost glowed in his grip, catching every bit of light and sending it to its razor edge.

And both wielder and weapon managed to outlast her use of Excalibur.

"It appears Illyasviel was telling a measure of truth after all…" Saber muttered, watching the dark warrior step down towards them as if on some invisible staircase. To make matters worse, Rider and her Pegasus arced up from the far side of the building, the winged horse slowly gliding in to land atop the roof and its summoner dismounting seconds before the equally darkly-dressed swordsman stepped onto the rooftop, his eyes never leaving Saber. His sword's tip was pointed down, but she had little doubts that his loose stance belied his skills and that the black blade would meet her own weapon in half a heartbeat should she move now. He was like Assassin in that respect.

"You alright, Rider?" he asked the woman standing a few feet to his left levelly. His voice was low and slightly rough, but clear and strong. There was absolutely no deception in this man's posture, expression or tone.

The sultry Servant did not face him, but she did nod her head before crouching into her almost predatory stance. "I'm alright," she replied coolly, letting no emotion reach her voice. "Were it not for the Saber's Noble Phantasm, there would have been no need for you to trouble yourself." As she explained, the Pegasus slowly melted away into streamers of white prana and vanished back to whence it came.

"Don't worry about it," he replied, his eyes flicking to take in the Knight of the Sword's form, lingering on her still shining sword for a second. "So that's the Saber, huh?" He didn't sound particularly impressed with her, but that was something she could use in battle later. Underestimating her would be his downfall. It had to be; she couldn't afford another sustained conflict in her current state.

"You know of me? Who are you?" Saber growled, fighting to keep her voice from betraying her exhaustion while setting herself at the ready, the knight eyeing the obsidian-black sword's tip lifting to point towards her head as the warrior slid his right foot forward. The faint jingling of metal caught her attention near his hand. The source was a length of broken black chain hanging from the end cap of the hilt; an odd ornamentation.

"Ichigo Kurosaki, deputy Soul Reaper," he said shortly. There was a hint of pride in the way he declared that grim moniker. "And Rider's Master," he added without reservation.

Saber and Shirou's eyes widened sharply at the information. This monster, a swordsman with such enormous dark power, was a _Master_? There was just no way that could be all there was to it. And yet, there was still no sign that this "Ichigo" was lying.

Rider's voice cut in calmly. "Don't bother with this one, Ichigo," the anti-hero stated. "That last attack depleted her prana reserves completely. She is no longer worthy of your sword."

To prove her point, the curvaceous woman shot forward in an explosive burst of speed. As exhausted as she was, Saber was barely able to turn aside the first dagger attacks to her throat and stomach before a vicious roundhouse slammed into her kidney, blowing her back into the small concrete box that marked the rooftop exit. With an explosion of dust and the shriek of mangled rebar, the petite Servant crashed through it and felt herself drop to the floor, her momentum killed by the impact with the wall. The brutality of the kick combined with Saber's exhaustion kept her from regaining her feet. Her face contorted in pain, a thin line of blood trailing down her face even as the broken bits of concrete scattered over her frame, half-burying her in hundreds of pounds of rubble.

"Saber!" Shirou took off as fast as he could towards his battered Servant's resting place on the landing a floor below. He didn't even make two steps before Rider's delicate-looking but immensely strong hand clamped on his wrist, the abrupt restraint nearly making him trip over his own two feet. He tried to yank his arm out of her grip, but he might as well have tried to dislodge a snake constricting him. "Damn it let go!"

He had to bite back a hiss of pain as she squeezed tighter, his wrist creaking from the pressure. "My Master and I have a few questions for you first, magus," Rider's voice, silky and soft, sounded more malicious and terrifying than Berserker's crazed roars or the masked demons' howls to him right now. With a slight twist, she forced the boy's arm behind his back and turned him towards the black swordsman.

The magus gritted his teeth as he was brought before the tall woman's Master. Again, the figure's overwhelming presence exerted itself, leaving it hard to move or even breathe. Instead of that black sword rising to his throat like he expected, this "Kurosaki" studied him sternly for a moment before glancing at his Servant. "Rider, let him go. He's not going anywhere."

The woman nodded in understanding and let the boy stagger forward. True to the fire-haired swordsman's assessment, Shirou found it a monumental task to stay standing, let alone move, under this man's menacing aura. He didn't exude death the way Berserker did, but… his presence invoked a sense of only being allowed to exist at _his_ mercy. "W-what do you want with me?" he managed to growl defiantly.

Kurosaki stood still, those amber eyes evaluating him with a slightly detached air. After a moment, the full weight of his glare dropped on Shirou as he focused his full attention on him, seeming to double the invisible weight on his shoulders. "I'm going to try and be civil, seeing as _you_ aren't the one who tried to kill my Servant here," the dark Master said coldly. "I only have one question to start: why are you fighting for the Holy Grail?"

Shirou lifted his gaze to his opponent and couldn't keep his confusion from showing openly. "What?" Of all the things the swordsman could try and beat out of him, he was starting with something so straightforward and, frankly, meaningless to another magus?

Kurosaki slowly asked again. "What are you fighting for?"

The magus narrowed his eyes and bared his teeth in a snarl as he replied. "Why do you care?" No sooner had the last word come out of his mouth that the pressure on his body doubled again, bringing him down to his hands and knees and making breathing impossible.

"I'm not in the mood for any stalling bullshit. Just answer me and we can move on with our lives." And just like that, the pressure dropped away.

With a strangled gasp, Shirou barely had time to look back up before the swordsman snapped his focus skyward, eyes widened. "Damn! Rider, there's another one!"

A sound akin to the hiss of rain mixed with the familiar whistle of slicing air, followed by rapid, repeated cracking of concrete filled the air. The pressure on Shirou's body dissipated amidst a rain of white. All around him, arrows of light fell, their tips chewing holes in the rooftop and forcing the two warriors away.

Scratch that: the barrage only forced Rider away, the Servant moving with a serpentine grace as she twisted, stepped, jumped and flipped through the rain of destruction, even her long hair parting and flowing like water between bolts. Even then, small scratches opened along her shoulders and sides, her dress doing little to protect from the assault. She circled carefully to her Master's side, slipping behind him and the safety of the black sword's defense.

Ichigo on the other hand didn't take a step until Rider moved closer, interposing himself between the attacker and his Servant, a roar of determination rumbling from his chest as the black katana slashed through the air at speeds that defied description. The fire-haired swordsman's entire right arm blurred into a black net from his constant movement, the white bolts scattering from his blade with the sound of bullets bouncing off tank armor. Turning to follow the arrows' flight path, Shirou felt an almost paradoxical feeling of relief and frustration at who was firing the barrage at the apex of its leap.

_Archer_ was the one saving him. Of all people capable of coming to the rescue, it had to be the red knight. The barrage didn't relent even as the white-haired warrior landed on the roof, his storm of arrows spreading to strike every single point on the warrior's body.

"Shirou-kun!" a familiar and much more welcome voice called to him from the shattered box leading to the staircase. Tohsaka waved him towards the exit, clearly trying not to be distracted by Archer's arrows ricocheting off of the black swordsman's defense despite the sheer numbers thrown at him. "Come on!" Still reeling from his sixth reversal of fortune for the night, Shirou had to remind himself to move from his prone position. Scrambling to his feet, he took off, letting Archer hold the two enemies off.

For his part, Archer had to beat down the urge to just let a stray arrow or two catch the boy in the back. It would be so easy to make it look like an accident of fate; the swordsman's inhuman speed with that katana was cutting apart every arrow that got near him and Rider, who had lashed out with her chains thirteen times so far. The Knight of the Bow spared an arrow to deflect them each time they arced over and around the protection of the fire-haired swordsman. Who was to say that an arrow that ended up in Shirou's back wasn't a result of a deflected shot? The only thing that stopped Archer from taking a potshot was the building evidence that this version of Shirou Emiya wasn't the same kind of lost cause he used to be.

Shirou ducked into the stairway with Tohsaka who looked a little disheveled herself. Saber had an arm slung over the slightly taller girl's shoulders, her frame covered in dust but otherwise fine, if obviously burned out. "Thank you Tohsaka, but I don't know how long Archer can hold them… we need to get out of here," Shirou gasped out, his lungs burning for air now that he was free of that monstrous pressure.

"What? What happened up there? Archer has Rider pinned, doesn't he?"

"Look again. The one called Ichigo Kurosaki has not let a single arrow through, and he is only staying in place to defend Rider until she is ready to move. They can escape or attack any time now."

Perplexed, the pigtailed magus looked out onto the rooftop, her vision catching the bewildering sight of Rider arcing her chain daggers up and over like a striking cobra. That in itself wasn't anything special, but the arrows of white light streaming towards her weren't getting within six feet of her, some invisible force deflecting and cutting every single one. No… there was something there, a massive and dense collection of prana, but she couldn't discern any purpose or shape to it. "What the…?"

Saber noted Rin's lack of focus and narrowed her eyes. "Rin, we need to retreat. _Now_."

Shirou gripped Saber's other arm and slung it across his shoulders and gently started tugging his Servant and his fellow Master down the stairs, though Saber's steps grew more sure as they ran, a portion of her great strength returning. It would be a long run, but there wasn't much else they could do. Despite his thoughts running a mile a minute, one question continued to run through Shirou's head over and over: How could someone like Ichigo Kurosaki, a being that radiated such deathly power, exist in this world?

Back on the rooftop Archer could see many things with his enhanced and further Reinforced eyes that others missed, but even his super-sharp eyes couldn't see a single open gap in the black swordsman's guard. The figure's speed exceeded Lancer's by a wide margin from what he remembered at the schoolyard. If the gap between them closed, Archer had no doubts that he would be sliced in half in less time than it took for him to switch to his favored swords. Still, the amateur had cleared the roof, so it was time to make his own escape after leaving the mystery man and Rider a parting gift.

"Okay, that's it!" the fire-haired swordsman growled irritably, a wave of blackness erupting from his katana that swallowed every arrow in its path without slowing or weakening. Archer's eyes widened and he leaped back and over the edge of the roof, noting that the swordsman was clutching his arm in pain.

With a scowl, Archer traced a single arrow and fired it over the warrior's left shoulder at Rider's forehead. In his current position, there was almost no chance of it doing any damage, but there was no time to properly Trace a Broken Phantasm and fire it accurately through that encroaching wave of black death. Barring that, he let himself topple an arm's length from the edge of the building, letting gravity take over for half a second before vanishing into his astral form to catch up with his Master.

* * *

Gritting his teeth to ignore the searing pain in his arm, Ichigo deflected the final parting arrow, his arm protesting the burst of inhuman speed. "Wait!" he called out to the falling red warrior and moved to pursue. Agony blasting through his legs prevented him from even taking two steps before he fell to his knees. His whole body burned and tensed in a way that he had almost forgotten. Ichigo tried to force himself back to his feet, but every inch of his body felt like it was encased in molten lead. _'What the hell? This is just like… the first time I used Bankai!'_

Ever since he had overcome his inner Hollow under the Vizard, the deputy Soul Reaper had not felt his bones creak from the strain of his own spiritual pressure since that battle with Byakuya; either his mask's Hollow power let him flat-out ignore the pain, or their symbiotic relationship meant the demonic mass of instinct constantly healed the damage with its high-speed regeneration, an ability that only grew more potent with time and understanding.

Now he couldn't even feel the white-washed maniac's presence. His spirit energy was still tainted by the Hollow's power, but the consciousness, the one that held ultimate sway over his second source of spirit energy, was gone. _'What the hell are you doing? I thought we had gotten past this crap!'_ he mentally roared to his killer-instinct-made-manifest.

There was no response, not even a cackle of amusement. Subtly, Ichigo reached inward for the malignant power, but the deeper he reached, the quicker it slipped through his fingers. His spiritual body almost locked from the pain of the attempt, his body slumping against Tensa Zangetsu. "Shit…" he hissed through his teeth. Despite his sure stance a moment ago, that last attack took a huge chunk out of his reserves, too. It would be some time before he regained his stamina.

Alone with her Master in the crumbling rooftop, Rider took a long, slow breath to center herself even as she approached her savior. With every step, the numerous thin cuts in her skin and clothing from Archer's unexpected assault healed over seamlessly thanks to the abundant prana of her Master. It had taken every ounce of willpower to remain calm during the entire incident on the roof. When Saber had released her Noble Phantasm against Rider's own, she was positive her life had come to an end, purged by the holy judgment of that sword, when her Master had appeared suddenly within a surge of darkness.

When Rider had first witnessed Ichigo seemingly materialize before her and bring Saber's Noble Phantasm to a deadlock, her mind had gone utterly blank. It went against everything she had known about reality: a Servant exceeded everything mortals were capable of outside True Magic… and yet this boy, _not even seventeen_, revealed that the true extent of his power, his "Bankai," rivaled a Noble Phantasm of the highest order. It was an awe-inspiring sight. His attack bore the same name as the one used with his default cleaver, but the power and nature between the two were as far apart as the sun and the moon.

In hindsight, Rider was a little embarrassed that awe had kept her from turning her steed around and attacking Saber while she was trying to pierce the black Moon Fang.

Her Master then took it upon himself, in spite the great pain he appeared to be in, to battle in her stead. Her contract granted her a window into his general condition, and he was obviously suppressing what must have been agonizing pain from whatever ordeal occurred earlier in the night. Even so, he pushed past the pain to make Saber pay for nearly killing his Servant. Rider was completely unscathed thanks to him, but the fact that she was brought so close to death before his intervention was enough to ignite this fury.

Her Master was willing to kill Saber because the blue knight had dared endanger her, one of the people he trusted, had called a part of his _nakama_. The term was endearing enough to Rider as merely a sign of his unreserved acceptance of her into his life, but now it was sinking in what that word truly meant.

Ichigo had matched Berserker, a demigod that Rider had no chance of defeating on her own, and had nearly bested him with his normal strength. And he was willing to use _ten times_ that level of power on someone who had threatened those he declared his friends.

It warmed her heart knowing he was willing to do so much for her after only a week with him.

Kneeling beside her Master, she gingerly reached for him. Rider didn't want to injure his fierce pride, but she wanted to address any pains coming to her aid had brought him. "Ichigo, will you be alright?"

Rather than give her a straight answer, Ichigo cracked open an eye and looked up at her blindfold. "…I should be. How about you? They didn't hurt you before I got here, did they?" he asked with a slightly pained strain in his voice and on his face. In spite of that, his concern for her well-being was almost palpable in his tone and expression.

Gently, Rider placed her hand on the teen's wrist and slung his arm across her shoulders. "As I said, I am alright. A Servant's place is on the battlefield."

Ichigo's frown deepened slightly. "…Screw that."

"What?" It was impossible to hide Rider's surprise at her Master's sudden growl, forgetting to pull Ichigo upright. A cold ball settled in her stomach. Had she said something wrong? After everything he had done for her, losing his trust scared her more than she ever thought possible. As irrational as it was she couldn't help but fear breaking that trust; it was so unfathomable that Ichigo would give her so much of it to begin with.

"You told me… you're not in this for the Grail, didn't you?" Ichigo asked, his voice slow and level.

Rider's answer was hesitant. "…Yes…"

"If you don't want it… what do you want, then?"

"I was summoned to serve you… my goals are your goals during the War," she replied, her voice soft.

"What about after the War's over? What happens then?" he pressed, his amber eyes never leaving her face.

"…Without the Grail's assistance in our materialization, very few magi can sustain a Servant for long. The amount of prana we need is immense. We disappear back to the Throne once we run out of energy. Though… given how much you have as excess, you could probably handle one, maybe two with it as long as they did not use their Noble Phantasms often, and even then, your reserves would replenish them quickly." Rider admitted. It was beginning to become clear where he was going.

"So as long as I have your contract, you'll stay," the orange-haired Soul Reaper summed up.

"Yes…"

"Alright, then when this War's over, you're sticking around. You're here, alive; and don't tell me you're an illusion, fake, or any other bull. You got a second chance," Ichigo declared as if his words would bend the world.

Rider wasn't sure what to make of her Master's calm surety. "For what?"

Ichigo almost rolled his eyes at his Servant's prodding. "To be happy." She almost seemed lost at that, as if the idea never occurred to her. Rider's silence prompted him to continue. "You've been through enough in your last life. You should do what _you_ want and not worry about things like 'destiny' or 'purpose' if you don't want to."

"What… do you mean?"

"If you ever want to leave, tell me. If you want to fight Hollows, you'll have my help. If you just want to live in peace and forget about everything, then you can. I told you: you're my _nakama_. I'll make sure you get that chance, I promise."

If it were anyone else, Rider would have shaken her head and called them naïve or patronizing. In her Master's case though, she could tell he honestly meant every word. He was going to wage war for _her_ chance at happiness, bringing to bear all of his nigh-impossible strength to see his words through. There wasn't much she could say, and a simple thank you was nowhere near enough to express what she felt. Unfortunately, it was all that she really _could_ say. "Thank you, Ichigo." Her voice was barely above a whisper.

Ichigo nodded, not thinking much of how strongly his words affected his Servant. Though he had to admit that Rider's smile, the real, grateful smile that she had let slip onto her normally stoic face, warmed him to see. It irked him to know her eyes were cursed behind that blindfold and thus he couldn't see Medusa's full expression. "Don't worry about it; you've earned your second chance."

Rider's blindfold did wonders to hide any coloring that might have made it into her pale skin. "…Let's get you back. Can you move?"

"Yeah, just give me a second," Ichigo breathed slowly, letting the pain fade little by little and allowing his Bankai to dissipate, the coat dissolving like a doused flame to become his _shihakushou_ while the katana swathed itself in darkness, revealing the cleaver form of Zangetsu's shikai. For a moment longer, Rider and Ichigo remained on the rooftop, the quiet of the winter night only interrupted by the gentle whistle of the wind.

"Kurosaki, Rider-san," a calm smooth voice cut in, causing Rider to snap her attention to the speaker. Her smile had vanished in an instant, reverting to her usual stoic mask. The young man to disrupt the peaceful moment, a certain white-clad Quincy, nearly took an involuntary step back from the disconcertingly dark glare he was receiving from the masked woman. Even if he couldn't see her eyes, she was putting a _lot_ of malice behind her hidden stare.

"Ishida," Ichigo greeted with a wince as he craned his aching neck to look at his rival. The Soul Reaper let Rider pull him fully upright, her movement slow and gentle to minimize the pain. "You took your sweet time."

Warily taking his eyes off the apparently furious Servant, Uryu clasped his hands behind his back. "Forgive me if I have trouble keeping up with you, Kurosaki. You _did_ cross the city in a matter of seconds. You have never moved that fast over such a distance before."

"Yeah well, at least I learned not to use a Getsuga Tenshou as an afterburner for a Shunpo in Bankai unless I _really_ have to. Tonight qualified."

"And naturally you overdid it as result of your 'learning.' Again."

The weary warrior almost shrugged, but that would require him to move his sword arm, which still felt like he had stuck it in a wheat thresher. He opened his mouth to explain, when Rider broke in, her voice cool and her words short. "If it is all the same, we need to return to the penthouse. We can talk there."

Adjusting his glasses habitually, the Quincy raised a thin eyebrow at the Servant's tone. "That would be for the best. There is something we need to discuss when we arrive, Kurosaki. We need to change our strategy some."

Ichigo's frown deepened. "We'll meet you there, then."

"In your current condition, Kurosaki, I think it will be best if I cover you," Uryu stated.

At Ichigo's prompting, the trio left the tower behind, Rider carefully hopping from roof to roof with remarkable ease despite Ichigo's weight. Beside them the entire way, Uryu quietly analyzed the area around him, taking a potshot at a Hollow that entered his senses. Their numbers had decreased to almost nothing, but the occasional lost soul would still enter the Living World. And yet, nothing truly distracted the Quincy from the disturbing sense he was receiving from Ichigo:

His spirit energy hadn't even started to recover the power he had used tonight.


	16. Interlude Start: Aftermath I

A/N: Two. Months. Ugh.

Do take note readers and writers, that starting a new job with a draining shift is one of the surest ways real life can screw up your writing plans. I've acclimated though, and I should get through this arc reasonably well. In the interest of putting out things quicker, I'll try not to do too many 50-page chapters for a bit. Those things eat my soul (and time). Don't expect too much action after that last "Holy crap!" chapter: we've got a lot of ground to cover, so I'll simply say "sorry for the wait" and get right to it!

And please, read and review or PM if you have ideas, questions or have constructive criticism to refine my style.

_Interlude Start: Fallout part I_

Bazett's day proved highly productive on the magic front. Her makeshift Boundary Field from the previous night proved enough to ward away the _Noh-men_ from her room and dull the highly distracting auras of despair and dread they exuded. The only time she even felt one was the result of a strange energy surge. She didn't bother checking what it meant, and the feeling of cold malice she associated with the dark spirits faded a few seconds later. Without the sensation of being watched and hunted by murderous spirit-beasts hanging over her head, Bazett was able to focus on going through her notes on rune magic and build up her arsenal much more quickly and efficiently.

Though now unpopular with modern magi, many practitioners of runic magic approved of its inherent simplicity and practical focus. Bazett was one of them, and for a combat magus like herself, the style worked exceptionally well. As an Enforcer, the magic Bazett knew tended towards the practical aspects and direct application rather than simple research, and the fact that it was the traditional magic of her homeland on top of a proud tradition for the Fraga bloodline didn't hurt.

Rune magic originated in old Scandinavia during the Age of Gods, using the eighteen symbols the Norse god Odin supposedly hid in the _Poetic Edda_ writings, known by mundane scholars as the Armanen and Futhark runes. Each rune was capable of instantly realizing specific mysteries in line with their meanings when inscribed with prana, and could combine in strings and arrays to produce more complex, wider-range effects, including Boundary Fields like the one surrounding Bazett's room. In spite of the versatility of rune magic, the restrictions on each rune's powers combined with the difficulty in using them in combat, unlike with more traditional thaumaturgical schools, eventually resulted in its decline.

However, the young Enforcer of the Fraga line stuck to her strengths, so Bazett spent her time pouring over possible combinations to deal with the dark spirits eager to feed on her soul. That stalking demon from a few days ago in particular drove the point home that she was going to need magical reinforcement to her sudden spirit awareness if she was going to make it through these next days in one piece. From the eighteen runes, there were a few she could use to enhance her abilities in fighting spirits, but just stacking those runes on herself was far less effective and inefficient than arranging them as a word or name: something with meaning.

Her initial plan was to simply use the rune of 'spiritual empowerment through resistance,' Nauthiz. Applying it would strengthen her spiritual powers over time, but it carried the issue of doing so by resisting them, like wearing training weights. This obviously didn't sit well with Bazett, who knew that she would need all of her power to survive the coming battles. And thus began her search for runic combinations. Frankly, for a few hours it looked like she had hit a dead end in that area.

It was close to mid-afternoon when she spotted her _omamori_ charm sitting atop one of her smaller books on Irish legends. Looking at the charm, she suddenly recalled its ability to conceal her presence from the masked monsters and searched the list of runes that could offer similar protection. On a whim, to cool her mind and find any meaningful words to combine her runes into, she flipped through the compilation of legends, noting somewhat fondly the numerous notes she had taken and posted in the book on Cu Chulainn in anticipation of her role as a Master. Another few pages and another, slightly less renowned legend took its place.

One of Bazett's habits as a magus specializing in rune magic involved mentally converting the names of heroes and places from her homeland into the magic runes and observing what the possible combinations would accomplish. The notebook she brought contained dozens upon dozens of such musings, though none of them really focused on dealing with corrupted souls and thus only offered partial solutions at best.

While flipping through the anthology of legends, one name in particular caught her eye, a name that she did not believe she had so far bothered to translate (or if she had, it was recorded in a different notebook) due to the legend in particular holding little interest to her. Now, the name all but jumped out at her, and she nearly scrambled to put her thoughts to paper.

One of the three druid advisors of the Grecian invader Partholón bore the name Fios, meaning "knowledge." What interested her was the combination of runes that would make up his name. First was _Fehu_, which bolstered power, then _Isa_, the rune of ice and a powerful force of mental resistance and calm. Next was _Othala_, a rune dedicated to the power of ancestors and legacy, which in Bazett's case was quite potent and carried the blessings of the gods. Lastly, _Sowilo_, the rune of the sun's flame and counter to the forces of darkness.

Individually, the runes had limited application, but, theoretically, applied together as a name with history and mystical bearing, they would strengthen her mental defenses and highlight her potential as a bearer of the Fraga, enhancing her natural gifts -including the spiritual- granting her the power to damage dark forces… like the _Noh-men_. She could already touch them, but damaging, even with Reinforcement, proved beyond her current reach. This combination however should let her fully damage them. If _Isa_ worked as she hoped, the increase in power should remain largely hidden as well, the rune's influence and interaction with the _Fehu_ rune halting her aura from leaking out into the world to a limited degree.

Even with her hypothesis so well formed, assembling a rune combination was not something to take lightly, and between meals Bazett sequestered herself in her room to carefully observe the interactions while inscribing the runes. It would be rather irritating for the wild magical energies of _Fehu_ to spiral out of control and explode in her face when drawing on her Fraga ancestry through _Othala_, after all.

By the time the sun had gone down, she had inscribed the runic name "FIOS" onto a spare pair of leather gloves and found that, thankfully, the combination was stable enough to be workable in the field. Though skilled as a magus, Bazett was not about to try and place the rune combination on the same pair holding the runes that hardened her gloves to steel-like levels. Best not take _too_ many unknown risks when messing with magic, after all.

Immediately after a late dinner (takeout yet again… she really needed to do some more grocery shopping and start cooking something healthier…), the Irish magus set up a surveillance point across the street and down the road from the hotel where the "class" from Karakura was staying. If a Master and Servant were among them, they would most likely leave the hotel once the city quieted for the night, and Bazett would be watching. She had to make sure her assumptions had grounds before moving.

Of course, then came the part about what to do after she confirmed her suspicions. The goal was pretty simple: isolate and identify the Servant and get the people not involved in the Holy Grail War out of the line of fire. Pulling _that_ off was going to prove extremely tricky, but it was her duty as a magus to ensure the normal humans were kept in the dark about magic. If necessary, she carried a small claw inscribed with a rune to erase memories. A little heavy-handed and unlikely to work on anyone with any appreciable level of magic resistance, but it was still an option.

For nearly two hours Bazett set herself to watch the towering hotel without so much as a yawn. Despite the peaceful-seeming night, the magus was all too aware that at any time a battle could erupt. The Enforcer found it difficult to feel boredom with her runes magnifying her spiritual senses. Every time a person walked by her position, she would feel the strength of their auras, though all of them were pretty much blank slates and had very little presence, not at all like Rukia's cold bite or Yasutora's immovable presence. From her position, she could feel neither of those sensations, but if even one of them was a half-decent magus, the first order of business was to put up a barrier to hide their presence even if their auras were powerful enough to be felt from her location.

Finally her patience once more paid off. From the top of the tower, three dark figures and a single white-clad one leaped out from the balcony, plummeting onto the rooftops below. She felt the aura around her shift even as she focused her enhanced eyes on each of the figures in turn. The first was the figure in white, who seemed to ride a panel of faint blue light like an elevator towards a rooftop. The thin figure's hair contrasted sharply with his outfit and pale skin, a jet black that almost blended with the night sky behind him before his head tilted, the glasses glinting against the moonlight and revealing his identity. _'Ishida,'_ Bazett noted in her mind and labeling him as a magic user of some kind.

The three dark figures were already splitting up, having simply let themselves drop to a nearby roof. One was obviously Rukia, her petite frame more than a full head shorter than her companions as she veered off towards the west. The remaining two figures dropped to a roof and paused for a moment before splitting up. Bazett was rather startled to see the shock of orange hair crowning one, the lavender river on the figure next to him less so. '_So "Rosaline" _is_ involved…_' she thought, her rune-enhanced eyes allowing her to pick out the details of her figure-hugging dress and the purple blindfold over her eyes. '_Most likely a Servant, and from the looks of things, Ichigo is her Master, though I cannot rule out Rukia yet._' the Enforcer surmised from their obviously casual, if brief interaction before they parted ways.

The new question was "what were they doing splitting up?" In the middle of the Holy Grail War, a Master and Servant splitting up while both were out in the streets was enormously risky. With the suspected Master moving north and the Servant moving west after Rukia, Bazett finally left her position and walked casually north. Better to face a powerful sword-wielding magus than an absurdly powerful Servant, after all.

She barely made it three blocks when a surge of prana from her Magic Circuits flared out and to her right. This time, the recipient was close, less than a city block from her position, but some instinct told her it was on the move, and chasing it down wouldn't accomplish anything. Moving to the north, she disregarded the sensation in favor of pursuing the orange-haired teen.

It took several hours before she tracked his distinctive aura down again. Something had motivated him to move, and Bazett slowly found herself leaving the urbanized center of Shinto. The boy was easy to track, his aura of power flaring periodically and giving his position away to the Fraga heir's enhanced senses carelessly.

Soon, a new sound echoed through the empty streets: steel crashing against steel. Staccato bursts of clanging and crashing stung her ears in the telling cacophony of battle. Bazett managed to up her pace towards the battle without breaking out into a dead run, but the closer she got, the harder it became to advance. Waves of air pressure and spiritual power flared outwards repeatedly, battering against her and causing her to pause rather than get caught in a battle on the level apparent from the air's disturbance. While she had the power to intervene, even kill one of the combatants if the situation was right, there was little chance she would survive in a free-for-all.

The way it felt like the air was thickening with every step closer wouldn't help matters, either.

After a few more tense seconds, a flare of enormous power swelled to her left and in the distance, so massive that she felt its radiant power even from so far, prompting her to look to the side and catch sight a swirling tornado atop a skyscraper. Such power could only come from a Noble Phantasm or an overwhelmingly powerful magus. Two battles at the level she was feeling in one night showed that at least a few of the Masters were growing restless. Even from so far though, the golden cyclone enthralled the magus with its power and majesty, completely eclipsing the white comet arcing towards it.

Then she nearly doubled over from the smothering wave of force dropping on her shoulders back from the fight nearer to her. Turning her focus again towards where the sounds of battle had originated, her spiritually attuned eyes tried to make sense of the massive cloud of _black_ that roiled angrily at the far end of the street. With a thunderous bang, the cloud looked to pull itself skyward and arc away and towards the golden cyclone, leaving the scene unmarred by its presence and taking the monstrous pressure with it.

At the same time, with a crash, a skid and a groan in Gaelic, a familiar face literally rolled to a halt only a few yards from her position. She called to him tentatively when they locked eyes. "Lancer?"

"_Master?_" The Servant's shocked expression would have been funny any other time, especially with the way he was upside down. Bazett felt a surge of relief at seeing the Servant she had summoned still in the War, but that was pushed back by concern at his well-being. Whoever he had just fought blasted him to his back from well over a hundred yards: a feat of power that only a truly monstrous foe could accomplish. That too fell away at the sudden shift from shock to a grimace of anger that covered the Irish warrior spirit's face.

Instantly Lancer stood up and faced the magus, his crimson eyes almost glowing in their intensity. "Awww no, this isn't going to work, not on me," he said sharply, his slightly elongated canines bared openly.

"What?" Bazett couldn't make heads or tails of what her former Servant was saying.

Lancer's fists clenched. "Listen, I don't know who you are or how the hell you managed to mimic her appearance, but if you desecrated her to do it, I'll find you and kill you! Drop the act!" The Servant's eyes darted left and right, flicking back to the slightly shorter woman every few seconds, trying to find something.

Bazett had to resist the urge to step back. While probably a good idea, it wouldn't make a lick of difference before a Servant. "Lancer, calm down!"

"Nothing doing, lady! Whoever the hell you are, drop the illusion before I rip it open!" With a twitch of his fingers, Gae Bolg once more appeared in Lancer's grip, the red spear almost shaking of its own volition in response to its master's rage.

"What makes you think I'm not real?" Bazett managed to choke out. Were it anyone else, she would have settled into stance and steeled herself for battle. But this was her childhood hero, her former Servant and just as importantly, she was not a Master at all anymore; there was no reason to fight, especially since he was in such an enraged state and she was without support, in which case she was a dead woman walking regardless.

Lancer just flicked his gaze to her left arm and then gave her a flat look. Ah, that _was_ a tough sight to explain, especially when Lancer had to carry her half-dead body clear across town while her left shoulder bled profusely onto his armor a scant week ago. "That's… I can't explain it, but someone rescued me…" she almost stuttered.

"…A likely story. Now, I'm going to count to three, and if you are still wearing that shape when I do, I put the lance through your throat." The man known as Ireland's "Child of Light" let his tone cool to an almost nonchalant one, as if he was merely pointing out a stain on her shirt. "One."

Bazett took a deep breath and drew her arms up. Running from Lancer was meaningless and cowardly. Even if she was going to die, she hoped to at least earn her hero's respect by defending her life. Hell, maybe defending herself would be proof enough for him.

"Two…"

And then both magus and Servant turned sharply to the west, rolling waves of raw power washing over them. Lancer and Bazett watched two powers collide over the skyline in exhilaration and mute awe, respectively. One ray was the color of the noonday sun, slowly pressing forward against a twisting and arcing stream of pure darkness. From such a distance, not even the enhanced eyesight of a Servant or a rune-using magus could make out any details aside from the obvious. The destructive energies surged wildly through the air, sending chills down Bazett's spine. In spite of that, the Enforcer mentally switched gears to analyze the clash with a professional detachment. Both attacks were enormously powerful, but the golden stream was slowly pushing back the dark ray.

After a few seconds, the two blasts exploded outwards in a sudden and violent stalemate, the shockwave of their sudden collapse roaring through the sky like thunder, the rolling roar carrying a faint ringing tone with it. Arcs of light and blackness spread outward and faded away over the streets of Shinto.

"Holy shit! No wonder the kid's a badass!" Lancer suddenly crowed at the sight with a manic grin working its way onto his face. '_Berry-Brow's got himself a Noble Phantasm!_' he surmised. It didn't take a genius to see the similarities between the roaring ray of darkness to the crushing shadows that the teen had gathered around himself to finish their battle. The level of power at Ichigo's disposal being derived from a Noble Phantasm, not to mention whatever training needed to use it effectively, certainly explained things.

Bazett mentally filed away the Servant's outburst for later checking. From the feel of the power she had trailed, Ichigo Kurosaki was apparently the source of the dark power. But that would mean that he was capable of taking on a Servant in direct combat!

A ridiculous notion!

While she contemplated the strange phenomena she had just witnessed, Lancer's voice sliced through Bazett's thoughts. "By the way, lady, I'm still at two, and… Thr-"

The magus barely had time to turn and face the warrior before a surge of prana fled from her body… and directly into Lancer. From the look on his face, the blue-clad knight felt the surge: his red eyes widened, his scowl vanished, and he almost dropped Gae Bolg from suddenly slack fingers. "What… the hell…?" both magus and Servant muttered in unison.

No sooner had the surge cleared her body that Bazett yanked off her left glove. She didn't allow herself to think about the consequences, even though doing so cut off her rune combination's protection. On the back of her hand, the same as when they had been since its restoration, the three sigils entangled into the Celtic rune that made up her Command Mantra had gained a very, very slight luster, as if struggling to regain the light signaling her contract before fading back into a simple series of scars. Looking up sharply, Bazett met Lancer's eyes in naked wonder.

Lancer had followed the woman's movements and dispelled Gae Bolg the moment he caught sight of the branded lines on her hand: a symbol burned into his memory as the very same rune-like Command Mantra that marked him as the Servant of Bazett Fraga McRemitz. The problem was that only two people aside from Bazett had ever seen it: the bastard of a priest, and of course, Lancer himself. No other being could know what his seals looked like, but that meant… "I reiterate: what the hell?"

"…I wish I knew. Someone or something saw fit to save me. I can't explain why I keep sending prana occasionally. I can't even control it… I couldn't just leave though…" Bazett sounded painfully unsure of herself, her gloved hand covering the dull Command Mantra branded into her opposite hand. Just like when they first met, the moment tension eased out of her, the Irishwoman became shy and soft-spoken around her Servant.

With the proof in front of him, Lancer couldn't tell if he should smile in joy at their reunion, or frown at meeting someone who should be dead, especially with…

"Lancer, why are you covering your eyes?"

"Look, it ain't like I'm not happy to see you again, 'cause frankly I am, but that shitty bastard can see and hear everything I do. Maybe you should just get out of town before he starts coming after you," the Knight of the Spear managed to look apologetic while covering his eyes with one hand.

The implication set in quickly, and Bazett wrung her hands in frustration before the glimmer of the homeland's runes empowering her gloves reminding her of something. "_Does he speak Gaelic?_" she asked in that language.

The red-eyed warrior pulled his hand away and regarded the woman who _should_ be his Master with a slowly building, devious smile. "_No. No, he doesn't_,"he replied.

"_Why don't we… go catch up some?_" Bazett managed to say with a very slight coloring of her cheeks. She slipped her glove back on and Lancer visibly relaxed, arms crossed over his armored chest.

"_Sounds good. And you can tell me why you've got a spirit-killing rune set on ya._"

Bazett twitched in surprise for an instant before favoring her hero with a warm but slightly sheepish smile. It was easy to forget that, for all of his savagery in battle and skill with a weapon, Cu Chulainn was also an expert in runic magic rivaling the very best of modern day practitioners. The two quickly left the street, the Servant leaping onto a rooftop with the magus close behind.

* * *

Safely within the penthouse and back in his body, Ichigo allowed Rukia's glowing palm to sweep over him. The trip back to the penthouse was mercifully uneventful, and it frankly felt like some last wall had been crossed with his Servant. The entire trip back she was more at ease, not so stiff in his presence.

'_Took her long enough,_' he thought.

When the three of them arrived, Orihime was quick to throw her healing barrier over them all, even before he had the chance to get back in his body. Even if his energy didn't appreciably change, it did repair the torn muscles he had given himself during his sudden rescue.

Finally the petite Kuchiki heiress pulled away, a frown on her face. "Well, aside from your spirit energy oddly depleted, you seem fine. I can feel your Hollow power in you, but it's… elusive, I guess."

"Thanks for checking," the teen muttered offhandedly. "It was like he was avoiding my attempts to draw him out." His expression tightened, his gaze dropping down to the floor and quickly losing himself in his thoughts.

"That's… troubling. It's always been eager to enter battle, right?" Rukia replied, her tone barely level. She could still remember the sheer _pressure_ Ichigo's inner monster put out during the battle in Hueco Mundo and the feel of its presence pounding on her shoulders.

Ichigo didn't reply right away. "…Yeah. I can tolerate him being quiet, but this is… wrong, somehow." Lapsing into silence again, the orange-haired swordsman found himself at a rare loss. With no clue what had happened and no real way to figure it out coming to mind, the Soul Reaper felt a chill settle in his stomach. This was something completely new, even from the perspective of his century-old friend.

"At least you seem to be recovering a little of your power now that you are in your body. It's extremely slow, but it doesn't look like you are losing your powers at any rate." Uryu's calm voice cut into Ichigo's darkening thoughts and bringing him a touch of relief. "Still, it is unlikely you would regain your full power even if you remained idle for several days at this rate. Do you have any idea what could have caused this?" Ichigo's mood soured again at the Quincy's follow-up.

"No. If that last attack had clipped me maybe, but I can't think of anything odd hitting me tonight. And I sure as hell didn't use _that_."

"Huh? What do you mean _that_?" Tatsuki asked. The way Ichigo said it indicated that whatever he was referring to, it wasn't something he liked considering. The rest of the group sounded equally surprised and all eyes focused on the orange-haired Soul Reaper.

"…When I was getting ready to face Aizen, I needed to commune with Zangetsu for an answer to that damn Hogyoku. He knew one way off the top of his head: an attack so powerful it literally reduced everything it touched to nothing. Problem was that using it would completely remove my spiritual powers… probably forever. I wouldn't even have enough spiritual power in me to see ghosts." Ichigo grimaced, recalling that rather… tense conversation between him and his two powers. "I seriously considered it, but I managed to find a new direction for us. You saw that one."

Images of twisting darkness and light colliding in the blue afternoon sky entered the minds of the witnesses unbidden. "So if you didn't use that technique, where could your spiritual pressure be going?" Rukia asked him, her eyes focused only on Ichigo.

Rider had thus far remained silent, soaking up the conversation from her position behind her Master's seat. It did not go unnoticed that the woman no longer assumed that perfectly subservient stance from before. Instead, Rider was leaning over the back of the couch, her weight supported on her arms casually. While she didn't know what to make of the hints dropped about something in Ichigo's spirit, the fallen goddess had a more immediate problem, namely with the white archer sitting in one of the plush recliners across from Ichigo. The last comment though, drew her back to the conversation, and she straightened. "I admit that I might have drawn on a large amount of prana to use my Noble Phantasm, but I have already recovered from the battle. Any further drain would have to come from another source."

"So you _did_ use his power," Tatsuki stated, her tone a mix of accusing and maybe a touch curious.

Rider turned and gave the martial artist her full attention. Tatsuki's body was tense, though it was tricky to say if she was just upset over the thought or if she was preparing to defend herself or her friends. "Indirectly. My own prana reserves were used in battle, but it was my Master's prana that replenished what I used. I have been at my full strength for quite some time now."

At this time, Chad finally arrived, having crossed almost the entirety of Fuyuki as quickly as he reasonably could. Having been briefed on the bare bones of the situation over the phone, the bronze-skinned giant simply asked, "What'd I miss?"

Rukia let out a breath. "We're getting up to speed on what happened on Ichigo's end. Something's started throwing off his ability to replenish his spirit energy."

Chad nodded, his unruly mop of hair concealing the glance he gave Rider before dismissing her as the cause. If she was, Ichigo would likely have noticed, not to mention that Rider had thus far never hindered him. Something new had entered the picture. His thoughts churning far faster than his mellow moving pace, Chad seated himself and folded his hands on his lap.

"I'll send a request for someone from the Fourth Division to have a look with my report. For now, you best hold off on Bankai-"

"What? Why?" Ichigo almost shouted.

Adjusting his glasses, Uryu sighed. "Kurosaki, what does your Bankai do?"

"Compresses my power and ups my speed and strength," Ichigo grunted with a roll of his eyes.

"Which means…" Rukia prompted.

"Okay, now you're just being annoying. I know that I burn power faster in Bankai, but I can't promise I won't use it." Ichigo said bluntly. "At the very least, Lancer's faster than I am in Shikai and too good with that spear to not take seriously next time." It bothered him that Lancer still wasn't going all out at the end. He could sense that the warrior was a lot like Ikkaku: a fighter who reveled in combat, using only as much ability as necessary to get a good fight unless severely pushed or needing to get something done. The man radiated battle mania on a level that easily matched the Eleventh Division's craziest.

Honestly, it was a rather scary thought given the blue marauder's skills.

Rider nodded and added her own thoughts. "Lancer is considered the most agile of the Servant classes. When Lancer and I fought on the first night, he did not use his full ability and was still nimble and skilled enough to defend himself against me. Factor in his potential Noble Phantasm and he is not a foe to take lightly. Are there any other methods that might allow Ichigo to regain his full strength faster?" Rider asked, wisely leaving out the option of giving prana through a tantric ritual. Oh it was still a viable option, but not exactly one to bring up casually, she figured.

The smaller of the two Soul Reapers rubbed her chin thoughtfully before shaking her head. "I'll make sure to pass along a request for a member of the Fourth Division to come by and have a closer look at you when I submit today's report." Every night before going to bed, the petite Soul Reaper made sure to send off reports through Hell Butterfly to her Captain, who thus far had simply told her to keep them up to date and act as they saw necessary. "Other than that I can't really think of anything to do aside from a minor healing kido treatment to replenish his reserves some. It won't be much, but…" Rukia offered. All those present knew that her relatively small reserves would do little for Ichigo at this point, but it was better than waiting for him to regain his power at its current pace.

"Thanks. We're going to be ready for anything if Saber's Noble Phantasm was any indication…" Ichigo grimaced, the clash of powers still fresh in his mind.

"Speaking of which," Uryu coughed awkwardly to gain the group's attention, "Care to explain exactly what happened tonight, Kurosaki?"

With a quick nod, the Soul Reaper deputy dove into the events leading up to Uryu's arrival. Ichigo casually glossed over the early part of the night almost blandly, fighting Hollows decidedly routine for everyone in the group save Tatsuki. None missed the way his voice gained fire and a tinge of excitement when he reached his encounter with Lancer. The group absorbed every detail, stunned that one of these spirits earned Ichigo's respect so quickly through pure skill at arms. The atmosphere tensed when he explained what he saw from the field, leaving Rider to explain what happened before his arrival.

"My intent was to withdraw, but Saber was unusually relentless. I believe she or her Master was attacked in a similar manner previously and wished to end the threat I posed immediately. Otherwise she would not have left her Master so readily."

"One would think we would sense a fight breaking out between us all looking," the Quincy commented, shaking his head.

"It is possible that any fights have been hit and run affairs perpetuated by Assassin, who is almost the complete opposite of a Saber. If so, it makes sense that its abilities would make it a frustrating opponent to kill. Presence Concealment would hide him from your mystic senses. On that note…" Rider then focused her full attention on Uryu, who got the distinct impression she was upset with him. He was right. "Ishida, I would like to know: what kept you from finding the two Servants near us when you found us? There is no way they could have gone far in their condition, and your sensory ability is the highest of us here." Though she didn't move, the woman's posture only made her chilly tone even more foreboding.

Uryu returned the Servant's unseen glare with one of his own. "As much as I would have liked to take a shot at an _unknown_ foe whose abilities could potentially outstrip my own, I felt the sharp drop in Kurosaki's spiritual pressure was more important to deal with," the Quincy sniffed coolly.

"I was under the impression you were capable of comparing your power to another's remotely," Rider countered.

"Perhaps, but Servants do not appear to adhere to the traditional rules associated with our methods. As it stands, I would rather not repeat what happened against Archer."

"Oi Rider, it's fine for now. I still gotta tell them about what happened on the roof," Ichigo called to her, and the Servant backed down instantly.

Rider did not appear completely satisfied with the Quincy's answers, but stood down with a silent nod. Uryu could still feel her almost icy glare directed at him even as she resumed her description of the night's climactic struggle and Ichigo's intervention.

Ichigo picked up from there, emphasizing the strange effect of the golden attack at nearly breaking through his Bankai Getsuga Tenshou, even though he poured more power than Saber used and further amplified it by calling its name. Like Ishida noted, the Servant simply didn't play by the rules of power they had grown used to. "Thankfully she ran out of energy before I did. I couldn't have held it back for much longer," the orange-haired swordsman begrudgingly admitted. "Her Master wasn't much, though he could see and hear me. Whoever he was, the kid had guts. Refused give an inch even when Rider and I had him cornered."

"…What did Saber look like?" Chad asked.

Ichigo leaned back and called to mind the woman and her defiant gaze. "Short. About Rukia's size, blond hair, green eyes. Dressed in a blue and white dress with silver armor and carrying a golden longsword… Hang on." The swordsman strode back into his room and returned with the thin book containing the Servants' profiles. A few flips of the pages, and he revealed a portrait of a sharp-eyed woman whose delicate beauty seemed at total odds with her role as the Knight of the Sword. "I can't say I know much about her actual skill; Rider knocked her out of the fight quick after her Noble Phantasm drained her reserves."

Uryu nodded at the information displayed beside the image. Her statistics were mediocre, but balanced save for a monstrously high Noble Phantasm rank, even higher than Rider's. "Hm… Perhaps Joan of Arc? Her features are certainly youthful enough, and she is obviously European in origin." Aside from Chad and Uryu, the group had no idea who Joan was, but it sounded like a fair guess.

"There is another clue to her identity: I heard her invoke her Noble Phantasm," Rider stated, the knight's fierce shout finally coming back to clarity as events were recalled. "She called it 'Excalibur.'"

A beat of silence followed to process what and more importantly who the name was associated with.

And in unison, the Karakura group, save for a speechless Chad whose mouth simply dropped open, all but roared in shock. "_WHAAAAAAAT?_"

* * *

Were Saber an ordinary mortal, she would have released an explosive sneeze at that moment. As it stood, the Servant only had a niggling sensation that someone, most likely an enemy, was talking about her. The small woman lay in the futon set in the side room off Shirou's own room, staring almost accusingly at the ceiling.

Yet another defeat: the third straight loss in under a week.

First was that leaden juggernaut, Berserker and his pale Master. And for that monster to be _Herakles_, a hero on a level all his own did nothing to ease her concerns. Sooner or later there would be a confrontation. That she could be sure of. As it stood, the outcome of the battle was equally clear: Shirou and she would die.

A scant two days later, Saber found herself repulsed by Assassin, a disturbingly out-of-place Servant that showed none of the typical abilities and tactics of his class. Instead, the warrior wielded an impractically long sword with skills normally reserved for a Saber and combined them with a mask that nearly turned him into another Berserker.

And here on the following night, the Rider and her enigmatic Master, Ichigo Kurosaki, entered the fray. The figure who proudly called himself a reaper of souls (and apparently a deputy at that role) looked and acted almost like her complete antithesis save for a matching determination burning in his eyes. As a spirit herself, Saber could see plainly that the black swordsman was some kind of spiritual entity. How something like that could form a contract with a Servant didn't make sense to her. And yet, her superb vision revealed that the boy's left hand bore the red glow of a Command Mantra reacting to a Servant.

The most frustrating matter was the _way_ she lost. Excalibur, her trump card and most recognizable Noble Phantasm, didn't kill Kurosaki or Rider. That meant that one Master and Servant pair undoubtedly knew her identity. She was too famous in this time for them not to figure it out.

It wasn't even that he was able to overpower Excalibur; indeed, the Sword of Promised Victory very nearly broke through the twisting darkness Kurosaki threw at it to slow it down. She simply lacked the prana to finish the job. Without a proper Master/Servant bond, she couldn't replenish her reserves between battles, and it was starting to show. As much as it galled her to admit, her previous Master was better suited to the role of Master than her current one.

Still, it was far easier to get along with the well-meaning if naïve Shirou than it was Kiritsugu.

Saber let out a slow breath to calm her mind. Her prana reserves were running dangerously low. Sleeping had thus far managed to conserve and even regain minute amounts of prana, but she doubted she could bring herself to sleep in her precarious situation. She would not be able to fight another Servant in her current state, and Rin might very well decide to take advantage of that for her own ends. It was no secret to her that Archer held nothing but thinly-veiled contempt for Shirou. Speaking of Rin, Archer and Shirou, the former king turned her thoughts back to the conversation from their return to the estate…

The quartet had moved with all the urgency and desperate stealth of thieves fleeing a botched heist. Archer's keen eyes had never stopped flicking between the rooftops and alleyways, and Rin nervously rolled a ruby between her fingers, prana surging through her Magic Circuits in readiness for any assault on their vulnerable sides. Bringing up the rear, Shirou constantly adjusted his grip on the polished silver gauntlet he had draped over his shoulder to support the much smaller Servant, who had all but gone limp.

Judging by the sounds, Archer had fired arrows a few times along the way, striking screaming masked demons like the ones she had slain the previous night and leaving their corpses behind to melt to nothing, but the two knights had focused most of their attention on a potential pursuit from the dark swordsman and his Servant.

Both Servants warily noted that the masked spirit-creatures were becoming more numerous with each passing day.

Saber's body had felt like she was trying to move underwater for the first leg of the trip. Thankfully, the last dregs of her prana slowly mitigated the sensation. By the time her body had regained enough strength to walk on her own though, the group had crossed the bridge.

With Saber able to keep pace under her own power, the four had sped up considerably, pushing themselves across town at a pace that had the two magi soaked in sweat in spite of the cool winter air within a few minutes. Rin herself was already worn out from breaking the magic circle at the school, even if Archer had carried her to the office building after. Shirou's endurance was taxed to its absolute limit from the earlier run clear across town, the poor magus's strength fueled purely by adrenaline and desperation. Between their exhaustion and the need for discretion in the face of their vulnerability, the return to the relative safety of the Emiya estate took nearly two hours.

Finally though, the warm lights of the estate's living area shone all around them and the two exhausted magus roughly collapsed onto the cushions arrayed around the table, ragged gasps pulling in much-needed air. In spite of her weakness, Saber still made sure to take up a guard position watching over the room in case someone or something slipped through the Boundary Field. Archer had astralized immediately and moved to the rooftop, making it a point to minimize his time near Saber's Master, even if did make himself useful while doing so.

After several minutes catching their breath, Shirou stood up stiffly, his nervous tension making his movements jerky during his short trip to the kitchen to start a pot of tea. Judging from his occasional mindless muttering, it was mainly a way to regain a semblance of normalcy before he got down to business. Soon, both magi had steaming cups in front of them, Shirou even making sure to leave two more for Saber and Archer.

Rin finally found enough breath to speak once the first sips of the beverage assuaged her burning throat. "Okay… okay. I think the first question that needs to be asked is this: what happened while I was working on that circle?" the magus asked, struggling to keep calm, though the nervous twitches of her fingers gave her away.

Shirou's summary of events was largely devoid of embellishments, though he did unwittingly play up Rider's presence. While she was extremely dangerous on her own, the purple-haired assassin's predatory attitude was largely a front; Rider never gave off any killing intent until the end of the chase. Saber surmised that the woman was under orders to test her foes for her Master. Ichigo Kurosaki struck her as a proud warrior. It wouldn't surprise her in the least if he was eager to cross blades with a Heroic Spirit to test himself. It was an arrogant stance, but one that he was probably normally justified in having, given his startling power over darkness. It was likely that encounters with warriors able to push him were few and far between.

Seeing how she had lived through the events, Saber focused only a part of her mind on following Shirou's recounting, but the moment he reached the rooftop confrontation and the dramatic interruption of the night's battle, she found herself tuning in intently.

"He called himself Ichigo Kurosaki… dressed in all black and carrying an entirely black katana. He should stick out in a crowd though: his hair was bright orange." Shirou took a moment to collect his thoughts before continuing. "He said he was a 'deputy Soul Reaper.' I don't know what he was, but… he was strong. I think he could control gravity or something. He tried to question me about the Holy Grail War and when I didn't answer, it felt like he made me ten times heavier by pushing out a massive amount of prana around him."

"Orange hair? Control gravity? Soul Reaper? Who the heck are you even talking about anyway?" Rin interrupted with an oddly long-suffering groan.

Shirou adopted a perplexed expression. "You couldn't see him?"

"No, she could not. The boy was a kind of spirit or elemental on a level close to a Servant in spite of not manifesting." The cold, nearly bland tone covered up Saber's battered pride and frustration adequately, and Rin colored slightly at having her apparent shortcoming so frankly pointed out.

Rin finished her tea in a few short gulps before speaking further. "That… doesn't work. A simple spirit can't contract a Servant: the nature of the Holy Grail War requires a magus to form the contract. It's part of the system to keep random bystanders from getting involved by accident."

"He wasn't simple though. I couldn't tell he was a spirit at all, and his presence reminded me of a Servant's," though caught off guard by the idea that the swordsman was a spirit, Shirou didn't deny Tohsaka's assessment. She was a stronger, more knowledgeable magus than he was, so she likely had a better idea of what Ichigo might be.

Saber once more felt compelled to point out a hole in Rin's argument. "The last time we assumed something was impossible, Assassin drove us back with pure sword skill, and the Master of Berserker did tell us of this 'Kurosaki' after our first encounter. Even if it sounds unlikely, it is best to treat this as a genuine threat."

"I never said I wouldn't, but it just doesn't make any sense. The Holy Grail War is going so far off the deep end it's not even funny: I've prepared for this and studied the previous Wars most of my life, but it's like this time it's set up to prevent any forethought or planning. The Servants barely fit their usual roles if at all, there are malevolent spirits running around constantly putting people in danger, and Masters are displaying weird abilities! It's frustrating! Am I the only _normal_ magus here?" The magus had to fight to keep from pulling on her pigtails while she vented _just_ a little. On the topic of strange new problems in the War, a stray thought hit her. "…Wait, what did this guy ask you on the roof?"

Though surprised by the abrupt shifts in Rin's mood, Shirou closed his eyes and exhaled to calm himself. He easily recalled the question the dark figure and his equally dark Servant had demanded of him. "They wanted to know why I was fighting for the Grail."

"Just like that white archer…" Tohsaka muttered. "This could be really, _really_ bad. Remember a few nights ago when I told you about the guy who appeared before me and Archer? He asked us the same thing."

Saber then turned to face her Master's ally with intense focus. "Do you think they are working together?"

"I'm not certain, but that makes two new contenders with similar abilities to a Servant, one of whom is calling himself a Master. First a false Archer comes to me, then a fake Saber meets you, and both singled out the Master of the Servant they were emulating. If another fake Servant comes out and attempts to interrogate another Master, then we know someone or a small band is actively attempting to sabotage the Grail War."

Nodding, Shirou recalled a brief explanation his father once told him while emphasizing the need for secrecy of the Grail War. "Do you think these guys are tied to the… Enforcers, I think they're called? I mean, if the fire ten years ago was caused by the last Grail War, having a group sorting through the Masters might discourage another disaster." While he knew that magi tended to not give a damn about the average person, the danger of magic's discovery by the public occasionally led to the deployment of the Mage's Association's combat teams to minimize threats and eliminate rogues who made too much noise.

Unfortunately, Rin let out a sigh. "I don't think so. Keeping the danger of exposure to a minimum is technically Kotomine's job. Besides, as dangerous as Enforcers are, there's no way one could take on a Servant. These guys we encountered are almost at their level." Rin slouched and rested her head on the table. "What was this guy's name again? Strawberry…"

"Ichigo Kurosaki," Shirou corrected.

The girl magus rolled the name off her tongue to commit it to memory. "I'll call the fake priest about it, but you ought to get to bed so we can be ready for tomorrow. It's Saturday, so we should be able to just get right to it. We're both exhausted so I don't think we should try and make any plans while we're like this. Archer will keep watch."

Just thinking about his warm, cushy futon nearly had Shirou nodding off right there. The adrenaline high was wearing off, and his limbs felt like soggy noodles now that he wasn't pushing himself. "Sounds good. Saber, let's get some rest."

Saber did not miss the way the boy had fretted over her, even if his weariness kept his words short. He was likely cursing his own limitations as a magus in the process. Even Rin gave her a concerned glance, the gears still turning in her tired mind for solutions to their increasingly precarious position. Still, sleep was a wise idea. Exhaustion was the enemy here.

And so here she lay, trying to minimize her movement to conserve energy. Closing her eyes in another vain attempt to sleep, Saber quietly promised that the next time she crossed paths with Kurosaki, she would pay him and his Servant Rider back for her humiliation. For now, she had to place her Master's life in the hands of their sentry, Archer. That thought caused her to open her eyes again, a sigh barely restrained from escaping her lips.

No, sleep would not come easy this night.

* * *

From his post at the edge of the Emiya home's roof, Archer watched the gangly masked creature visually sweep the streets again, and once again miss his presence completely despite standing less than a hundred feet away and without concealing himself in the least. Hell, his white hair and red clothing should draw the eye under the moonlight, but this masked creature stared in his direction several times, seeming to see everything but him. Weird.

While he, Saber and their respective Masters had rushed from the battlefield, masked spirits like this thing in front of him had stalked them, their attention pulled from their travels towards the tower. The ones he had seen were staring at the roof of the tower before spotting them and moving to attack. An arrow to the eye was enough to kill them, but their growing numbers were putting him on edge. Fighting these things practically broadcasted the position of Masters and Servants. If he had to guess, they were attracted to large concentrations of magical energy. It would explain why they went right for the place where Servants battled and hunted them so actively.

What really surprised him, though, was that the moment the four of them arrived at the Emiya grounds, the monsters had stopped pursuing. As strange as that was, the only thing he could think of having any sort of effect like this was a Boundary Field. The fact that he _knew_ that this estate's Boundary Field wasn't built to fend off evil spirits bothered him though. Perhaps Rin tampered with it? There were a few times where she would be able to adjust it, though he doubted it. She was good, but not _that_ good.

Pushing the thought aside for the moment, Archer checked all around him, his keen eyes seeing no hostile entities within a mile aside from the masked spirit before him. He hopped down from the roof onto the high wall surrounding the grounds. Even though the monstrous spirit was now less than twenty feet away, the thing still showed no sign of detecting him. Archer waited for the thing to see him or at least look in his direction before testing his theory.

The Berserker-sized beast's cylindrical mask had a wide maw that looked flat and featureless until it rolled its jaw in its tension, revealing row upon row of saw blade-like teeth. The body was an odd teal color and was slung low to the ground, knobby joints giving it a boney appearance. Sure enough, the creature ignored him completely, scanning the area and even ignoring the sarcastic wave Archer gave it. And just like every last one of these creatures, a hole passed clear through where its heart should be.

With a breath, Archer hopped out into the street behind the creature. The moment he crossed that threshold off the property, the creature's entire body jerked in surprise before whipping back to regard the Servant in shock before hunger overtook its expression. It was acting as if Archer had teleported. The knight lifted an eyebrow at the swift response. Whatever madness drove the masked spirit drove it to let loose a bone-chilling howl and lunge for the curious knight.

With barely a twitch, Archer hopped back on top of the fence and the monster followed his flight before freezing. As he thought: the moment he was back on the Emiya property, the spirit's senses were scrambled and it simply could not perceive him. The creature sniffed the air and swung its head left and right, actually reaching up with one of its clawed hands to scratch its head in human-like confusion. Archer noted that the creature never tried to reach for the spot he moved through, as if its mind was too clouded to consider such a thing.

Drawing his bow, the Archer took barely a moment to shoot the thing through its masked forehead and watch it slump to the ground lifelessly. "Okay… someone's definitely messed with the Field." Not apparently a bad thing, but neither Rin nor the amateur had any hope of actively modifying a barrier as complex as Kiritsugu's. That of course meant that another party was involved… but who? Was it another of these fake Servants, like a false Caster?

With a disgruntled click of his tongue, Archer resumed his watch, easily allowing part of his mind to contemplate the changed game. Tonight's events confirmed it: this wasn't the War he was familiar with at all. He _definitely_ didn't remember any Ichigo Kurosaki when he was last in this time, and he doubted he would have forgotten the mind-blowing display of stubborn will and raw power when Excalibur and the black torrent collided. Besides that, Rider _survived_. That definitely didn't mesh with his recollection. Given the information, Archer had to conclude that he wasn't in the right timeline to achieve his goals at all.

If that was the case, there was no point in killing his younger self at this time. The boy was being put through a different crucible than the one that led him down the path of the Counter Guardian. There was a chance that he would let go of his moronic ideals if the stress kept mounting like it had. A few choice words at the right time would undoubtedly help with that. As it stood for Archer though, being near Shirou Emiya for any length of time set his teeth on edge.

And of course if Shirou _didn't_ change, it wasn't like he couldn't kill the idiot later. Even if it didn't change anything on his end, the act would at least keep the kid from making a mistake that would only lead to his own personal Hell.

Of course, that assumed these new guys gave him the chance to walk that path at all. He had made sure to listen in on the two magi below his feet, and his head was nearly spinning with the possible implications of their presence. Whoever these new guys were, they upset the Holy Grail War to the point that any foreknowledge he had became utterly useless. Rider was, in his memory, used by Shinji, even if he wasn't her real Master. There was no way that worm would have gotten control of Rider from the orange-haired swordsman. The look in the black-clad warrior's eyes when he was deflecting Archer's barrage of arrows told him that he was obstinate to the point of idiocy. At the same time, he was strong enough to back up his stubbornness.

Of course, that meant that there was another party to the already convoluted mess of alliances and isolated powerhouses, assuming the presence of this new party wasn't already throwing off the dynamics. If possible, Archer hoped to track down the group and eliminate them in one shot, but there was little chance of that, given Rin's orders. Saber's depleted state meant that they were, frankly, in deep shit. And worse yet, that display of power from the roof might as well have told every Servant and Master that the War was escalating to the level of the previous one. "Damn it all… what's the point of coming back with foreknowledge if you can't make decent use of it?" he grumbled to himself.

A cold tingle ran up Archer's spine and a presence manifested behind him, filling him with a pervasive sensation of being watched. Long honed combat instincts had Kanshou in his hand and his body turning before his thoughts even registered what he felt and his night-black blade lashing through…

Empty space. His first thought was Assassin had slipped in, but not even the Presence Concealment skill would have stopped the wooden bells from ringing. Kiritsugu definitely made a top-class Boundary Field. On top of that, this War's Assassin was not the type to go about things quietly. Just one more oddity in the string of peculiarities.

Still, it didn't change the fact that there was something unknown now in the confines of the only spot that had thus far been normal and comfortingly familiar. "Crap." Archer quickly scanned the area, his muscles tense, but the presence was gone. It wasn't malicious, but whatever it was snuck up on him and then vanished from all of his physical and mystical senses effortlessly.

'_Great,_' Archer thought. '_First Shirou's seeing ghosts, and now I'm apparently being stalked by one._' His entire body on high alert for any more danger, the Servant set himself to guard his allies' sleep, hoping that things in this War would start making sense when the sun rose again.


	17. Interlude Start: Aftermath II

AN: Well, I almost made my personal deadline this time. That's better, I suppose. Again, these next few chapters are going to be on the shorter side, but I'll try to belt them out faster to make up for it some. Anyway, there's not too much to say about this chapter, though I do get to introduce a new antagonist to the story. Get used to him; he's going to cause all _sorts_ of problems for our heroes. I'll reveal more about him over later chapters, so watch for details then.

Now, how many of you can identify the little cameo I've got in this chapter?

As always, thanks again to my beta readers Logan ~Murder of Crows and Xynth, as well as all my reviews and readers out there. Thank you so much for keeping me going! Feel free to PM me with any questions or concerns and I'll continue to do my best to answer!

_Interlude: Aftermath Part II_

There were times when one marvels at the human mind's resilience. Many times in history men and women have faced truly horrific experiences and only came away stronger. Other times, our mind's natural defenses bury the full extent of our pain until we do grow strong enough to cope.

Either way, Kenji Nakamura was not feeling particularly grateful for his own mental toughness, assuming that was why he was still enduring this nightmare and not dropping into unconsciousness or insanity. Ever since the mask was removed from his face, he was separated from the creature he had become. He had no direct control over the body, at best serving as a mental nudge. Worse, the demon wearing an angel's skin had constantly… tinkered with him like some fascinating piece of equipment!

Every few hours since his capture, the monstrous body that his mind was trapped in would set itself on a slab of stone and allow itself to be peeled open by the woman's numerous tools, each resembling a particularly cruel parody of a surgeon's equipment. The woman no doubt spent the intervening hours experimenting on other souls or simply ruminating on new tortures to put him through. Even with control over his body sealed behind his bullet-shaped mask, he could still feel every incision, every slight twitch of his muscles when she tested his nerves. And in spite of the unrelenting agony, he couldn't even find refuge in madness! Unless he had already gone mad and this was all some twisted delusion of his own devising.

…Nah, he wasn't that creative. Nor that much of a masochist.

The sudden mood swings were the closest he had gotten to full insanity, seeming to relate to his proximity to the woman who apparently went by the name "Caster." Even if he hated her with every fiber of his being, he could not feel real rage in her presence. Even after the mask returned, he was kept entirely separate from the Hollow body, the creature running on pure instinct and Caster's will. Kenji had found that the monster never listened to a word he said and never deigned to communicate; the former family man was a prisoner in his own body. And yet Kenji was forced to see, hear and feel everything Caster made his twisted form do, including the slaughter of the occasional soul. He wept for every last one; Caster sure as hell wasn't, being more fascinated with the process of turning a normal ghost into a heartless _THING_ she called a "Hollow" and capturing them.

As his body once more settled on its broad side to await further "examination," Kenji took in the room as he always did through the mask's eyeholes, watching the skeleton crew scurry about in preparation.

Yes, "skeleton crew" was literal.

Caster's assistants were all _skeletons_: not a single strip of flesh hung to their dusty brown bones. Their forms mirrored the skeleton of a man save for their skulls, which were devoid of anything save for a shark-like mouth of razor-like teeth, and the ribcage's blade-like bones. Many carried weapons in their clawed hands while others busily set various tools on trays for Caster's use, rattling ominously with every move. With horrors like those at her disposal, the Hollow-bodied human had to wonder why she was going to the trouble of messing with ghost-beasts like him.

With a whirl of distorting space, the woman he **hated** stepped out of a black void (in Kenji's opinion, a tunnel straight to Hell where she belonged) and gracefully pulled the cowl off her head, letting her long powder-blue hair catch the light and accentuating her fair and almost angelic features. Kenji once more was struck by how so much evil was hidden behind such a beautiful visage. In spite of her lack of obvious care, she still maintained some form of regal grace and Caster unclasped the brooch. A skeleton slunk up to her and gingerly took her cape once she shed it, revealing her elegant dark dress and fantastic figure. Oh how Kenji longed to tear her flesh until she was as hideous on the outside as she was within!

Without a word the woman circled the monstrous creature that served as Kenji's prison, her expression contemplative. Once Caster had reached the front of his still mask, she finally spoke to him, or rather, started another distracted monologue. "I find it interesting how there is absolutely no consistency between your form and those other Hollows aside from the mask and the hole in your chests," she explained to the prone monstrosity conversationally, though she knew no response would come.

'_I really don't give a damn,_' Kenji hissed in his mind, his mind feeling increasingly foggy from whatever magic or drugs Caster put him under.

"But that's nothing compared to the way you and your kind can keep interacting with the material world despite being largely incorporeal." Caster ruminated while tying her long hair back in preparation for tonight's "surgery." This scene had repeated itself several times over the last few days, and in spite of the fog over his mind, the man was starting to hope a lapse in Caster's attention would end his afterlife. He had tried to provoke his "Hollow" body into thrashing at times to that end, but in this place beneath Ryuudou Temple Caster's control was absolute.

It was then that the witch made a gesture and a second table was wheeled up behind her. The skeleton-thing moving it silently lay down on it once the gurney was set within easy reach of Caster's hands. "Because of that ability," she continued to monologue, "there has never really been a need for Hollows to use any form of physical medium to fulfill their desires like with typical wraiths. However, the success of the mask shows that a Hollow's magical energy can be used or drawn out with the aid of such a medium."

'_Just get to the point already._' Kenji demanded silently.

Examining and selecting a knife from a tray just out of Kenji's sight, the witch gestured to the table. "However, just stuffing you into an object would have limited use. A medium for a being such as an entire Hollow requires that the medium have some measure of mobility for you to apply your strengths through. A homunculus, for example. But… seeing as making one is too costly and takes too much time, I'm going to have to make do with what I have."

Kenji had no idea what she was babbling about, though it sounded like he was going to force his new body to possess something. Well, she was in for a surprise: this form didn't have the ability to possess things!

"Of course, since Hollow forms interact so closely with physical phenomenon, a different approach is needed than the norm. Instead of you dwelling within something, we'll put your medium inside of you and anchor you to it."

'_Shit.'_

The woman finally finished her preparations and took a deep breath like a doctor preparing for delicate, life-saving surgery rather than the spiritual equivalent of butchery. With a single word, Caster's magic asserted itself and strapped the Hollow in place, hooks of magical energy biting deep into its black flesh and along its limbs. Knife in hand, Caster almost gingerly stroked the bullet-shaped mask before stepping to begin her work.

Pain rose and fell, as though only being numbed just before it became excruciating before building again. Kenji wanted to scream, fought to make some kind of sound escape the Hollow's throat, but save for the squelching of metal sliding through raw meat the chamber remained silent. He could not see for the way his head was bound, but every now and again, he could feel something shift and pulled free. Every time she did, his body felt weaker, more and more limp.

Kenji had no idea what Caster was doing until she spoke from the region near his lungs. "That takes care of the ribcage and the arms. I think the skull and spine should make fine anchor points. Get these out of the way for now. If they dissolve, fine. If not, I want them on hand for analysis." A nearby skeletal henchman rattled in acknowledgment and moved to retrieve something. When it made its way past the mask's eyeholes, Kenji's only window to the outside world, he saw a heavy tray filled with blood-soaked bones, _his_ bones, being carted off to another part of the room.

Caster had apparently been removing his _skeleton from the neck down!_ Within the confines of his mental prison, all of the haze over his thoughts lifted and Kenji let out a panicked scream, desperately attempting to push the placid Hollow body into doing something, _anything_!

No one in the room heard him, Caster herself largely oblivious to the world while her work sat before her. With a gesture the skeletal warrior reclining on the second table lost cohesion, the body becoming nothing more than a pile of lifeless bones. Taking the first vertebrae, the dark beauty carefully began inserting the bone into the pried open Hollow, magic twisting the physical material with the spiritual spinal column into one, settling in a black bone shaped like a human vertebra.

A deep crushing sensation lanced through Kenji's head, his consciousness wavering beneath the pressure on his mind and the pain of his body. It was hard to think, bits of his vision marred by black spots.

For her part Caster watched in fascination as the flesh near the bone puckered and shrunk to accommodate the new bone, a process that repeated itself with every bone she fused to the Hollow's body. It was almost mesmerizing how malleable the Hollow's body proved. The potential offered by such a concept was almost frightening. If these creatures really were so capable of warping their flesh with so little stimuli, was it possible for them to conceal their monstrous forms if they were gifted with greater intelligence?

If so, even a handful would make vicious and effective recon/assassination tools.

The man within the Hollow had a hard time stringing even a sentence together by the time Caster got to cutting his tail apart to insert the legs. Every time a bone went in, the pressure on his mind grew stronger and lasted longer, and his vision grew more and more impaired by darkness. His pleas for mercy or even just simple death went unheeded, leaving the man with nothing but his pain. '_Why, God, why? What did I do to deserve this?_'

Soon, all he could think of was a simple, repeating mantra.

'…_**hate you**_'

There was no sign Caster could hear the poor soul's screams of hate and anguish, and she continued her surgery.

'…_**hate you**_'

With all the patience and care of a craftsman, the witch inserted the ribcage and allowed the flesh and organs to slowly warp and twist into an appropriate fit.

'…_**hate y■u**_'

Another few bones slipped in.

'…_**h■te y■u**_'

He felt his arm warp and twist into a new shape when she inserted the bones that made up the skeletal warrior's clawed hand with precision, magic again forcing the twisted union.

'…_**h■■■ y■u**_'

The procedure was repeated on the other arm.

'…'

What was he thinking about?

For that matter, who was he? What was his name?

Where was he, why was he here? He couldn't remember.

Why couldn't he remember?

Did it even matter?

Can't remember…

Caster finally moved to the neck, pondering how to manipulate the fanged maw of her Dragon Tooth warrior into the occupied mask. With a few words, streams of magical energy hooked the mouth of the mask and pried it open, the Hollow's slight resistance the only sign of discomfort it had displayed throughout the entire procedure.

'_That's right. I'm Kenji. Ke■ji. Ke■■i._' With every cut, probe and spell, more of his mind unraveled, an abyss opening up in his psyche to devour his thoughts, memories and consciousness, leaving nothing behind. Within that darkness, a new awareness congealed from the fragments of the three sources of this madness. Bits of the Hollow's rage and instinct mingled with the human's more rational and dexterous mind and the zealous servitude of a loyal servant of Caster.

At last, the dark witch managed to place the mouth within the Hollow's throat, roughly over the top of the human face's own jaws. And again, the flesh warped, and Caster couldn't help but watch in anticipation. The mask cracked in places and flowed like hot wax, peeling back in others as purple and black markings slithered over it like someone was painting it meticulously. The bullet-shaped mask shrank into a helmet resembling a more open-faced version of a hoplite's helm from Caster's own time. A row of straight blades like horns swept from the brow of the helm forming a slight crown. The facial features beneath were shrouded in unnatural shadow, a faint impression of shark-like teeth set in a savage grin only just visible in the magically lit room.

In spite of all of those things, Caster was startled at how _human_ it looked. From a Hollow's twisted form, the addition of a _Dragon Tooth_ warrior had restored some semblance of humanity to her creation. It made little sense. The medium had warped like the Hollow, so she had expected some kind of middle ground to be reached. Instead, all of its bestial features were suppressed.

The figure's smoky gray skin had a leathery look as well as a human's general form. Its muscular frame was visibly suited for both speed and strength: powerful without unnecessary bulk. The being's hands and feet had slightly pointed nails, a far cry from the clawed digits of the Dragon Tooth warrior serving as the core physical structure, but an improvement over the clawless hands of the Hollow she had chosen for this.

While she inspected her creation, the woman slipped off her gloves and ignited them with her magic until they dissolved to ash. As careful as she was, there was still a grave risk of contamination. Her studies had noted an almost disease-like quality to Hollows, the slightest corruption passing into other hosts and accelerating the process of a soul's transformation. For the sake of her Master, she would not put herself at risk to such a thing. It barely took any prana at all to conjure a new set of those gloves clean of Hollow essences anyway.

Honestly, Caster was slightly apprehensive. The spiritual surgery, though outwardly a resounding success, bothered her. The information constantly coming in from her various scrying points and the absolutely _monstrous_ prana releases in the city proved highly distracting. Unfortunately, this carried over to her delicate spell-work, leading to many additional tweaks, extra cuts and patch jobs to keep the process acceptably stable. The slightest fluctuation in her thoughts could have proved disastrous. Worse, the battle happening over the city indicated that the parties involved were not going to be simple matters to deal with. Of course, seeing the Saber release such radiance only incensed Caster to delve deeper into her experiments for possible solutions, including… recruitment.

To that end, Caster needed to ensure that her slowly growing army of Hollows could prove useful in the myriad schemes constantly flitting through her mind, leading to tonight's attempt to merge the spiritual might of her first Hollow minion with the physical versatility of her own _Dragon Tooth_ warriors. The fact that the entire procedure hadn't caused any meltdowns or explosions was a good sign, but not proof her attempt had been successful, either. With a whisper, she invoked the spell to reanimate the skeletal warrior.

Three things happened in unison at her command. First, the warrior's body jerked violently like it had just been struck by lightning. Second, the shadows in the room seemed to take on a life of their own and slithered up to the table, obscuring everything from her creation's neck down, all light in their way devoured, even her magical lights flickering to hold the darkness at bay. And third, two intensely bright slits of purple flame opened where the eyes would be. The creature released a low hiss through its teeth, its hand emerging from the slowly receding shadows to grip the table's edge, now clad in a black steel gauntlet. Every plate that formed the armor was edged and sharpened to the point that trying to grapple this new being would likely flay a man like shark's teeth.

The warrior slowly pushed itself upright, drawing Caster's attention to the strands of shadow-stuff that were twisting and hardening into a full suit of metallic armor over her new creation's body. The breastplate was a single piece, though it was darkened in places by the shadows so that it appeared to have a leering face of a dragon's skull engraved in it. The shoulders were girded in disks of metal stylized with an image of the creature's former bestial mask. Around its waist, a skirt of studded leather the color of dried blood formed and covered the top of the viciously designed leg armor, its plates also covered in various serrations, while stylized demon skulls leered out from the poleyns at the knees. Finally, standing to its full height, almost a head taller than Caster's own Master, the figure turned its malevolent gaze on her.

The moment it looked at her, the Servant felt a chill run down her spine. The creature before her loomed over her, yet its presence almost distorted the world around it. Every shadow felt deeper, and small twitches in the edges of her vision from them amplified the feeling of danger the thing exuded. What had she wrought into this world?

Caster was about to speak when the creature dropped to one knee, one fist planted firmly on the ground while the other hand lay flat over its chest. When it then spoke, it sounded remarkably eloquent, even humble before her.

"_**What is thy bidding, my mistress?**_"

Its voice, a deep but almost pleasant baritone, reverberated through Caster's bones. Something… behind his voice sounded wrong, somehow. The mix of the strange, unidentifiable warping and his words turned his low, calm voice into something grotesque. It wasn't the sound of a living thing, or even something that belonged to this world.

Still, the creature was exceeding her every expectation! It was not only far more intelligent than she anticipated, but it radiated might in a way that far exceeded the sum of its parts. Fighting to keep her tone commanding, she bade her servant stand. "Rise: I would like to inspect my new knight. Were you gifted with a name, by chance?"

The creature paused for only a second, its head bowed in supplication. The three beings that were consumed in its creation offered small bits of information and aspects of themselves to the entity's mind, but it was the knowledge of the Earth from the _Dragon Tooth_ warrior and their Greek origins that finally gave rise to his sense of identity.

"_**I am… Kakolethros, mistress.**_"

Caster nodded. "An interesting choice, Kakolethros," she said, testing the obviously Grecian name approvingly. "Very well, come. I have a few tests of your abilities in mind tonight."

"_**By your will,**_" the dark knight intoned. With one hand, the new entity, neither human, Hollow, or familiar, reached into a nearby shadow and almost looked to peel it from the wall to sling it around his armored shoulders as a long, ragged cloak. His great strides carried him to his creator's side immediately after. In the darkness of the witch's stronghold, he was almost invisible.

* * *

Considering his numerous Noble Phantasms and way he fought in close quarters, it was extremely easy for the unobservant to mistake Gilgamesh for a Saber-class Servant. Honestly, the golden King of Heroes could have benefited from the immense skill and physical power that class provided, but there were plenty of perks to being a member of the Archer class. It was the gift of unparalleled eyesight that Gilgamesh most enjoyed, especially from his vantage point high on the hill that Kotomine's church loomed over. From this hilltop, the endless lights of the urban center of Shinto sparkled like jewels, though the steel monoliths failed to hide the stars from his enhanced eyes.

Kotomine had deigned to let the hound off his chain, likely to avoid having to deal with the antsy spearman while he handled the phone call from the Church. Apparently they had gotten wind of the sudden and violent mess that had started unfolding and were looking for Kotomine to have an explanation. The last thing anyone (so far as their plebeian minds were concerned) needed was for the last War to repeat itself. As far as Gilgamesh was concerned, this one would not be a simple repeat, but a far grander event… that is, if the masked phantoms ever stopped distracting the Masters and Servants from getting down to business.

Ever since the previous night, these demons had crawled out of their world through black apertures to hunt. In all of the last ten years he had existed in this world, Gilgamesh had only seen their ilk eight or nine times, each of them attacking him with the desperation of starving wolves. It seemed they hungered for souls, and Gilgamesh's extremely dense spirit might as well have been a full feast for them. Now though, ever since that black giant had appeared, the wretched creatures had appeared all throughout the city in absurd numbers. Those that stalked near the church invariably homed in on him and attempted to ambush him, rightly assuming that a direct assault was doomed to failure.

'_Speaking of which..._' With a snap of his fingers, the Sumerian king fired a single sword from his vault out to his right. The Hollow hiding in the bushes didn't even have time to scream before a holy sword, the prototype of a later Noble Phantasm, split the creature in half from nose to tail. To Gilgamesh's sharp eyes, every small fleck of color and light rising from its rapidly dissolving corpse danced in a way similar to the flames that surrounded him in his final battle with Saber.

Ah yes… Saber. A woman worthy of his full attentions. So strong, so defiant, and even a king! She was a rare treasure, and one he would enjoy breaking in. To see the fire in her eyes flicker and die would be… exquisite. He had absolutely no doubts that she would participate in this War as well. Such a powerful will would not allow another to fulfill the role. And when it was time, he would claim her for himself.

A tiny spark of silver caught his ruby eyes as if on cue. From such a distance, the demigod could only see enough to know that a Servant or two was out there fighting a running battle (there was always a possibility of the former heroes clearing out the masked creatures, after all), but the contestants mattered little to him save Saber. Still, watching them scurry about proved an amusing distraction for a few moments until they reached central Shinto, where the numerous towers closed off any chance of seeing the outcome. Sparing barely a thought to killing another wretched wraith moving in from the left, the golden king focused his preternatural sight on a closer source of entertainment. Though partially obscured by the few small houses out in that direction, he could just make out the sparks of bladed weapons clashing furiously.

With a smile, Gilgamesh attempted to recreate the battle's flow from just those sparks, their movements and frequency lending him tantalizing tidbits of the battle far off from the hill. A spark here and there so close together indicated a clash at speeds beyond mortals, so more Servants were out and about. Even with his keen eyes, though, it was extremely hard to catch sight of any details from so far. Only a thin needle of crimson and a band of metallic silver stood out in the darkness, bouncing off of the tiny bits of light around them. From that, he deduced that Lancer had finally found something to amuse himself for the moment. How interesting.

And again, his eye was drawn elsewhere by a burst of magical energy of intensity rivaling some of his stronger treasures, and a glowing white bolt took to the skies from atop one of the tallest buildings in the skyline. "Impressive in its own way, I suppose," he said to the empty air. The comet dove on that roof twice, thrice before the other fighter responded.

The tornado that erupted from the tower originated from a very familiar golden light. Immediately, a wild, almost feral smile made its way onto the golden Servant's face. "Ah, so that _was_ you, King of Knights! Magnificent as always!" Almost completely forgetting Lancer's scuffle, Gilgamesh focused his attention squarely on the release of Saber's Noble Phantasm.

The golden light built until for a few glorious seconds, night became day. The once mighty comet of white energy topped by a single black band that marked it as the charging steed belonging to the Rider dwindled in significance. Compared to Saber's sword, it was insignificant. As though in reply, a serpent of roiling darkness rose from Lancer's general position straight towards the light, like the Egyptian demon Apep attempting to chase down and devour the sun god. The black mass gathered before the Noble Phantasm's path, a black flame standing out in total defiance to the shining light and returning the night sky to darkness behind it. Both the comet of white light and the darkness almost looked to brace for impact when the light of Saber's divine blade flashed towards them to obliterate both.

To see the darkness gather into an inverted mirror of Excalibur startled him. A river of raging blackness collided with the golden band of light, its twisting fury an affront to Gilgamesh's senses. Worse, it was actually holding back Excalibur's wrath, even if it wasn't able to halt its advance! "What kind of _DOG_ dares?" Gilgamesh demanded sharply into the empty night, narrowing his eyes and focusing on the source of the black ray of defiance. Whoever it was, it had earned the king's ire. '_Who are you, to defy a king's will? Some plebeian rebel? Saber marked you for death through her Noble Phantasm, so roll over and _die_!_' Rage colored his every thought, a small part of him tempted to annihilate the skyline with Enuma Elish rather than let the insult to the absolute rights of kings stand. Instead he drew more strongly on his enhanced vision, attempting to isolate who was casting that black ray even as Excalibur attempted to push past it.

A flicker of orange stood out at the head, the rest of the figure obscured in a black coat that bled into the night sky. The chaotic twisting of light and shadow made it nearly impossible to get more than that, though. Still, orange hair was a rarity, and only one person he had seen in this city bore a similar tangle with any meaningful sort of power seething in him. "Kurosaki-san…" The name came out in a serpentine hiss of displeasure. Even though the orange-topped figure was slowly losing ground, he had managed to protect his Servant, apparently the Rider and had turned the battle into one of endurance instead of a finished affair.

The brat couldn't even summon the Saber like he had suggested! And now he was _defying a __**king**_? Did that Ichigo boy have any respect for his betters? Of those with divine right of rulership?

Worse, the climactic clash came to a close almost immediately after his thoughts started churning. While unable to overcome the power of Saber's Noble Phantasm, the struggle was enough to wear down Saber's reserves, and both attacks collapsed spectacularly, the windows of the upper stories blowing apart from the shockwave. With the furious attacks no longer in the way, and the figure hovering still in the night sky, he was able to see more. The ambient moonlight combined with the lights from the city allowed his powerful eyes to discern the figure's features, albeit it was a bit of a strain at this distance. "That… that _mongrel_!" Gilgamesh nearly roared; his words punctuated with another sword, a particularly wicked-looking scimitar, firing from his vault to punch through a masked creature. "It _is _you, Kurosaki!" he seethed, the prana in his body almost sizzling outward. Only decades of experience and if he was honest, curiosity, kept him from hunting the boy down.

Ichigo was, after all, a modern human. To be able to last more than a second against a Servant no matter what he had at his disposal was utterly baffling. The man who called himself the "King of Heroes" watched the orange-haired boy and his Servant alight on the roof, their forms obscured by the skyscraper's height. He watched another Servant, this War's Archer launch an ambush and then back off, the arc of darkness chasing him indicating that Ichigo was still alive. Still, instinct and knowledge of Saber's fiery spirit assured him that she had survived the encounter to fight another day. Perhaps he should seek her out to see? Or mayhap track down and eliminate Kurosaki himself?

No. A king's pride is not so easily assuaged. Saber would have her rematch, as much as he himself wanted to kill that Ichigo brat right now.

Still seething, Gilgamesh waited and watched until a white figure arrived and escorted Ichigo Kurosaki and his Servant out of sight, their destination hidden by the trees lining the path to the church. The scowling Servant let out a slow breath to rein in his temper before turning on his heel towards the church. Business or not, Kotomine had better have some explanation for this travesty. Ichigo Kurosaki had gone from a minor curiosity to an unknown irritant.

Inside his office, the priest in question pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand, the other holding an ornate, old-fashioned rotary phone to his ear. "I assure you that each and every one of the wraiths is being dealt with as they arrive. No. No, the Masters and Servants have taken the matter into their own hands. No intervention is needed at the moment, thank you Your Excellency." Kotomine considered himself a largely calm, patient individual in spite of his… eccentricities. Patience was a necessary thing for both a magus and a Church Executor, and thus for a man who was both, doubly so. However, even his patience was stretched thin by the prattling and probing of the Bishop at the other end of the line.

For the most part, the Holy Church's role regarding the Holy Grail War involved simple mediation by a single priest, a fact that allowed Kotomine a great deal of freedom for his own interests that didn't exactly... coincide with the role. However, it seemed that after the last War's fiery conclusion, the Church was paying at least slightly closer attention. Apparently they had either received a vision of the current state of affairs or had a spy keeping an eye on things. Either way, a Bishop that was temporarily attending to a church further to the south, in Misaki City if he recalled, had called him and now was in the process of grilling him about the mess. The Bishop once more attempted to needle a little more information about the origins of the dark energies swirling about the entirety of Fuyuki, likely hoping to catch him in a lie.

That alone was rather insulting. Kotomine prided himself on his honesty; it was simply that the truths he revealed were often not what others wanted to hear.

Fighting back the urge to sigh, Kirei leaned back in his chair before replying. "I am unsure. The worst of this… incursion started with some form of Boundary Field drawing a powerful phantasmal beast to this plane. I would put it as the work of the Caster, much like the last one. For the moment, the creatures appear to have prioritized the magi, leading me to believe that this is an attempted 'fishing' tactic." Without waiting for a reply, the priest placed the handset on the desk.

The Bishop on the other end was obviously not happy with this fact and made his displeasure known most vocally to the extent that Kotomine heard him clearly despite leaning back in his seat. Once the bishop had calmed, Kotomine put his ear back to the phone. "Do not worry. The worst appears to have run its course. That said, these creatures are largely spiritual, so exorcism is an option." Naturally, the Bishop wasn't exactly keen on Kotomine running around on the front lines while that Holy Grail War was in full swing. "Again, no, there is no need for aid. The necessity of secrecy has forced the Masters to act to prevent loss of life from these creatures even if it forces them into the open." After a few more confirmations and appropriate shows of deference, Kirei was finally able to put down the phone and return it to its proper compartment with a relieved sigh.

* * *

Down in the south, Bishop Ogawa flipped the latch shut that held the hidden secure line and turned towards a figure standing almost serenely in the room with him. The elderly gentleman carefully withdrew a cloth from his pocket and wiped his forehead with it, sweat already formed there just from facing the figure's piercing blue eyes. "As I'm sure you've heard, Number 7, things appear to be under control. Are you satisfied?" he asked, fighting to keep a tremor from his voice.

The figure was dressed in a nun's habit, though one that was slightly more form-fitting than normal, and her boots were steel-toed leather meant for combat. Despite her seemingly demure posture, a skilled eye would note how tightly coiled she was, like a drawn bowstring. Code-named "Yumi" and the seventh in her organization's hierarchy, the agent of the Holy Church slowly shook her head. "Not in the least, Your Excellency. That man is a master of half-truths and a magus besides. I trust him even less than my targets." Her woman's voice was cold, almost lifeless.

"Well, unless you are willing to speak to your superiors, my hands are tied here."

"That will not be necessary. My current orders come directly from His Holiness. My target is here in this city; of this I am certain." The woman turned to depart but left with a remarkably pleasant farewell. "Good night, and may God bless you, Your Excellency. Thank you for your time and for indulging my request."

Ogawa slumped in relief when the woman was no longer in his temporary chambers. With a brief prayer, he thanked the Lord that the woman from the Burial Agency had no interest in him, and thus he would soon be far away from the immortal assassin when he departed tomorrow.

* * *

Kirei Kotomine barely had a moment's peace before the door to his office nearly burst from its hinges, Gilgamesh's red eyes burning with barely restrained rage, thankfully not directed at him. "I would politely request that you refrain from destroying this house of the Lord, Gilgamesh. What seems to be the problem?" the priest kept his tone perfectly civil and welcoming.

Dressed in his casual clothes, the Servant stuffed his hands irritably into his jacket pockets, his stance imperious. "Spare me your mock-piety, Kotomine. Tell me: what do you know about Ichigo Kurosaki?" The sudden interest in any of the Masters aside from Saber's had Kotomine raising an eyebrow. Nothing needed to be said to make his curiosity known, though; Gilgamesh was adept at reading people as easily as one does a street sign. "That **dog** managed to nearly halt Saber's Noble Phantasm. Who. Is. He?" The Golden King's sheer presence would likely suffocate a normal human into mindless obedience or break them completely.

In spite of that and the near-absurdity of Gilgamesh's claim, Kotomine took it all in stride, withdrawing a sheaf of papers listing a few details on the Masters and which Servant class they had summoned. "There is little to tell, I'm afraid. Master of Rider, Ichigo Kurosaki. He does not come from any known magus family, nor are there any records of any hermits or philosophers with that family name. He is likely a simple but powerful psychic."

"He is a CHILD, Kotomine; a rebellious child. A child does not simply gain the ability to face a Servant without training for it. Worse, he denied the sacred right of kings by opposing _my_ Saber!" Gilgamesh hissed.

The priest simply shrugged. "It is not the mediator's job to do extensive background checks on the Masters, merely to mediate the War and protect the defeated who seek sanctuary. There are groups to hire in this time for what you are asking for. I doubt one with the Golden Rule such as you would not be able to afford their services."

"Since when did you care about adhering solely to the responsibilities of your position? Having a change of heart?" Gilgamesh's last comment came out almost curious were it not the way he leaned over the heavy desk to meet Kotomine's eyes, his nearly volcanic temper still stifling the air.

"Hardly. I am merely pointing out that I do not always have the answers, as flattering as it is for you to assume such."

"Yes, but I know that the same darkness the boy commanded appeared near your dog. You saw something." There was no probing, no hunches, or even a sense of insight in Gilgamesh's words. He _knew_ Kotomine was holding out on him.

"Merely that the boy's power reacted to the release of a Noble Phantasm. Lancer saw their stalemate, though I am more interested in the survival of a woman I myself killed he encountered. I seem to have forgotten to remove her head." More accurately, he wondered how the woman had managed to re-grow a functioning limb, complete with the scars of a lost Command Mantra.

"You're slipping. Admittedly humans can be disgustingly determined to live at times," Gilgamesh replied, amusement bleeding away his temper slightly.

"Perhaps age and fortune is beginning to take its dues. Either way, unless-" both occupants of the room turned to the phone sharply, its shrill ring startling the conspirators from their discussion. "May I?"

Gilgamesh stood straight and gestured his dismissal. Loathe as he was to admit, letting Kotomine play that little verbal game had cooled his head some, but he still wanted to know what sort of creature Ichigo Kurosaki was and if it would be easier to kill him or let him thin the Servants some. Of course, if he fought Saber again, he would have no choice but to intervene with lethal intent. It was only right to protect his treasures from those who would steal or damage them, after all.

It was actually a genuine surprise for the priest to hear Rin's strident voice through the phone. "Kotomine, we might have a problem."

And yet _another_ participant in the Holy Grail War warned him of the Master of Rider, Ichigo Kurosaki, as if he being strong was an unfair advantage and thus had to be some unnatural game-breaker. If he really was such a threat, nothing stopped alliances from forming. Hell, Bazett was the same in that she was powerful and had developed a near-perfect strategy by summoning Cu Chulainn; she just was so dangerous in a fashion familiar to a magus. And all of that devastating power became useless in the face of a surprise attack.

Of course, it looked like killing her hadn't stuck like it should have. He would need to speak with Lancer about that when he got back and chastise him for his attempt to keep secrets. He'd let him get away with it this time, though. It wasn't every day that someone managed to outwit him so simply.

Rin's response to his suggestion to seek allies jerked him from his thoughts and gave the priest an idea of just how shaken the night's events had left the little magus. "Look, I understand all that, but I need to know if there is a possibility of a group actively attempting to sabotage the Holy Grail War. We've had two incidents of individuals with nearly Servant-level abilities actively attempting to attack Masters so far and I need to know if the War will be put on hold to deal with them. Especially Ichigo Kurosaki, who apparently is Saber's equal," she snapped.

"Equal, you say? I have no records of anything unusual about him. No magical background known and as ignorant of the War as the Emiya boy."

"Kotomine, this is serious! At least tell point me in the direction to look!"

With a mental shrug, he glanced at Gilgamesh, who was obviously listening in with intense focus and decided to throw them both a bone. "All I can really offer you is that he is from Karakura Town in western Tokyo. I can't in good conscience play favorites, you understand." The priest smirked slightly at Rin's disbelieving snort at the "conscience" remark.

The pigtailed girl's grimace was clear even in her voice. "Alright fine, I guess that will have to do for now. Just… keep your eyes open. Something's wrong this time."

'_You have no idea, Rin Tohsaka, not in the slightest,_' the grim-faced mage-priest thought with a smile as he hung up. "And what of you, Gilgamesh? Are you planning to perform your own investigations?"

With his temper largely under control again, the Golden King considered the possibilities with a clearer head. "Perhaps, perhaps not. I once visited Karakura years ago, and though it had a vast amount of mana in the air compared to the norm, it certainly was not a haven for those with Sealing Designations. More than likely the boy is simply naturally powerful and claimed a magic artifact." Gilgamesh mused, the idea of the boy getting his hands on something specifically designed to bolster magical power output or control sounding more sensible the longer he considered it.

A slight smile worked its way to his face. Perhaps the boy had even gone so far as to find a lost Noble Phantasm! If so, there was only fitting one place for such a thing to end up: the Gate of Babylon. Perhaps this era did have a treasure or two worth claiming before he purged it of the unworthy after all…

* * *

Rin finally was stressed enough to pull on her pigtails after hanging up the phone. The only thing stopping her was her pride in the presence of Saber in the room. Rin had decided against waiting for morning before calling the priest, quietly heading to the main building with the stealth of a cat. She was understandably surprised to see Saber kneeling silently at the table, barely receiving a nod of acknowledgment from the blonde knight before returning to her thoughts. Deciding that Saber wasn't waiting to take her head off, Rin had made her call.

The fake priest was so _infuriating_ in the way he dismissed the possible outside threat to the Holy Grail War. At least Kotomine had given her a tiny tidbit to work with. Pensively, the magus prodigy brought a hand to her chin. "Karakura Town…" she muttered, plans already starting to circulate on how to dig up some useful information on the interlopers. Between a name and a place, she should be at least able to get a little impression of significant history in the area. Off the top of her head though there was little she could recall about the city, it holding no real importance to the magical community that she was aware of.

From her seat, Saber had listened in on the conversation for any signs of duplicity on the Tohsaka's part, but it sounded like she was simply doing her part to keep the War running smoothly.

'_Ha._' There was no way anyone could call this Fifth Holy Grail War smooth. Even if it was a horrid bloodbath, the Fourth War adhered to the traditional concepts behind the Heaven's Feel ritual more than this one. At least there, the Servants fought each other and Masters stuck to fighting their fellows. There were no shockingly powerful Masters willing to throw themselves at Servants and walk away as the victor. If only she had Avalon, or at least her full capabilities as a Servant!

The only consolation was that it was obvious that her opponent, Ichigo Kurosaki, was not a human, but still held a sense of honor. It would have been too easy for him to order Rider to track them down and kill them even with Archer running interference. Rider was extremely fast, perhaps even more so than Lancer, and struck with the lethal surety of a cobra waiting in a shadow. Instead, she had stayed behind with her Master, deigning to let them live.

Saber's pride as a knight rankled at the thought. A lucky break it was not; Shirou's, her own, and likely Rin and Archer's lives were all spared in an act of mercy. She couldn't keep this up. As much as she had come to appreciate Shirou's determination, character and the way he took to swordsmanship, she couldn't win the War without him fixing their contract to allow her to replenish her prana. Weakness in battle was not something Saber had to deal with before, always seen as the example to follow even in battles where she was forced to fall back. She needed to replenish her former strength and soon or all was lost.

Slowly lifting her eyes to the pacing magus contemplating her own plans, Saber swallowed her pride for a moment. "Rin." Despite the note of command that drew the magus from her thoughts, Saber's voice was barely above a whisper.

"Hm? What is it?"

Just watching the small warrior take a moment to word her thoughts told Rin just how off Saber was feeling from her normally regal self right now. "It frustrates me to admit it, but I am in need of your expertise."

Rin kneeled at the table across from the Servant, her mind churning with the possible reasons Saber would request help so late at night. "Go ahead, I'm listening."

"I am only somewhat familiar with the intricacies of magic, but I need to know something: is it possible to increase prana flow between the Master and Servant contract? I cannot be in this state if we plan to survive, but I will never feed on a soul."

It took a moment for Rin to wrap her head around the situation Saber was asking her about. Oh, it wasn't like the genius magus hadn't already known of the issues in Emiya's bond with his Servant, but the fact that Saber was asking her so frankly for help stunned Rin speechless. Then, to Saber's confusion, Rin's face lit up in a spectacular blush. "Well, I… that is… I do know one way off the top of my head…"

Judging by the sputtering speech, Rin's idea was something tremendously uncomfortable to consider, and Saber _did_ know of one way to… oh. Casting her gaze to the side while shifting slightly, Saber fought to remain mostly stoic. "I did briefly consider that… _method_, but I was hoping to confer with a more knowledgeable magus such as yourself for other options before making a hasty decision."

Saber raised an eyebrow as Rin looked to completely lose her balance and topple to the side. "Ah, well… thanks for that…?" Still blushing, the pigtailed magus stiffly forced herself to her feet. "Uh, perhaps I can look through my family's library for information tomorrow. Yeah, there might be something there."

Mastering her discomfort and regaining her expression of perfect calm, Saber offered a polite bow. "I thank you. Sleep well, Rin," she said before gracefully rising her feet and heading back to her room for the night, at least partially satisfied by Rin's words.

The magus nodded stiffly before turning on her heel back towards the guest house. Images she would rather not contemplate tried to force their way into her mind's eye every step of the way. Sleep was impossible in her current state, so she quickly ducked into the bathroom and filled the sink with near-icy water.

Rin dunked her head many times in it before she finally went to bed.

* * *

Up until a few hours ago, the forest occupying southwest Shinto had been largely quiet, though the sense of foreboding that usually was laced through these woods had grown deeper and the shadows thicker than even its rumors of hauntings and disappearances made it out to be. However, for those living in the woods, it was peaceful until the Hollows began to nest there, their constant howls, screams and the sheer racket of their movement through the thick underbrush waking up the residents.

Naturally, having her sleep interrupted for the second night in a row had goaded Illyasviel von Einzbern into violent action. Taking Berserker with her, Ilya had all but marched into the woods, even ordering her two maids to lend their support with the "pest control."

"Leysritt! Behind you!" Sella nearly yelped while she pointed over her fellow maid's shoulder.

Leysritt's sleepy expression didn't shift in the slightest even when she turned to face the rampaging Phantasmal Beast. With a graceful pirouette, the maid let the beast smash a meaty fist into the tree behind her. In the next instant, the slender homunculus brought her hands down, bringing her ornate white halberd on the creature's head with the force of a speeding semi. The mystically charged weapon clove through the monster and kept going, imbedding itself into the ground with a thunderous crash. It took a second for her to rip the heavy blade from the Earth.

"So noisy," she sighed.

In spite of its appearance and the deftness which Leysritt could handle it, her halberd weighed well over two hundred pounds and was further enhanced with magic. Ridiculous for any form of practical use, but combat-model homunculi like Leysritt used such weapons to devastating effect when the situation called for it. Killing these masked creatures obviously counted.

With a sharp yank, the frontline warrior of the two maids managed to free her weapon, though she had to take a few steps to avoid toppling over from its sudden release. Frankly, Leysritt much preferred it when the nights were still and quiet, allowing mistress Ilya to sleep peacefully. It never stopped bothering her knowing that Ilya's position condemned her effectively from birth. In the two years she had been alive and serving the little girl, Leysritt had found herself forming a powerful attachment to her, to the extent that she doubted any form of programming or indoctrination would have made a difference to her. Ilya suffered far more for others' ambitions than she or anyone should, all because of this Holy Grail and the Einzbern's pride. All Leysritt could do is protect and treat the little mistress with kindness to make her lonely and painful life a little warmer.

Unfortunately, Ilya had her own, personal reasons to participate, and thus it mattered not to the tiny girl that she was going to die by the time this was all over.

It sickened Leysritt.

A sweeping slash bisected the monster that leaped at her from the trees, the momentum of her swing cleaving through her target and into another that attempted to lay in ambush. Her dance-like steps carried her through the forest and reaped a brutal tally.

"So noisy."

Sella shared many of Leysritt's concerns, but remained austere and exacting in teaching Ilya-sama the secrets of magecraft for her benefit. The Einzbern Master had a dangerous road before her, and a single misstep could, no, _would_ kill her. To protect her charge, Sella would remain a strict disciplinarian… for all that Ilya-sama let her. If it were up to Sella, she would be able to enjoy a peaceful existence, where her discipline would be less focused on teaching the rules of magic and more on just being a maid and friend. The deceptively young-looking lady wasn't one to mince words, nor did she always listen, but at least she had taken the magic lessons to heart.

That and it wasn't like anyone or anything could hurt her with Berserker following closely.

Speaking of which…

"There's another one! Berserker, crush it!" Ilya commanded happily from the giant's immense shoulder. Clad in her coat and hat, the girl had wrapped her thin arms around Berserker's neck while enjoying the sensation of her Servant's overwhelming power and speed. With one hand held up to support the girl's feet, Berserker roared his acknowledgement, his axe-club swinging left and right while plowing through everything in his path and not letting so much as a splinter from the shattering trees touch his Master.

The Hollow he charged barely had time to acknowledge the attacker's existence before it was rent into rapidly-dissolving chunks. Another Hollow leaped away from Berserker in shock, but was far too slow to evade the lead-skinned force of nature's relentless rampage. Several more skittered deeper into the woods, though one particular snake-like creature snapped at Berserker's calf, venom dripping from its fangs. Said fangs shattered on contact with Berserker's nigh invincible hide. The Servant crushed the snake-Hollow beneath his feet even as he sought more of the masked things to kill.

The childish laughter from Ilya could not have sounded more incongruous mixing with Berserker's roars and the sounds of the ruination he unleashed. For the moment, Ilya just let her mind focus only on the battle, forgetting everything else.

Such as how her familiars had shown her Shirou-onii-chan was somehow still alive and healthy. She had seen him fall to the ground a few nights ago, his organs splattered and his bones crushed in a very final manner. Not even a Servant could get up from that without some form of healing ability…

Or how Caster had yet to alter or improve her castle's wards. So far, their alliance was less "remove the dangerous opponents together" and more an agreement of non-aggression. Caster had yet to request her aid though, so it wasn't like either side was taking advantage of the other yet…

Or how a massive collision of power in the sky over Fuyuki City had almost lasted long enough to jeopardize the secret of magic's existence. Between the black ray and the golden stream, the sky was lit up by raw power for almost fifteen seconds! That was way too long for something that flashy to stay in one spot, especially in this modern age of information. She couldn't get a familiar high enough fast enough to see what exactly happened, but she did know that two Servants were involved in the struggle while Berry-onii-chan was fighting Lancer up until an explosive release of power knocked her familiar out cold. Hopefully the mediator was already working to erase the memories of any witnesses and destroying evidence…

She didn't even think about the possible connection Berry-onii-chan had to the masked monsters plaguing her forest. Her familiars showed her that he was oddly relaxed around them even while he exterminated them with his numerous companions, as if they were a familiar nuisance at best…

Or how the Holy Grail War was so messed up from what she was expecting…

Nope, the only thing going through her mind was enjoying the ride from her protector's shoulder while he chased down any foe she found for him to vent his endless fury upon. Between Berserker, Leysritt and Sella, she would have the forest cleaned out in less than an hour. It was somehow quite cathartic to let her Servant go nuts like this. In the morning, well, after sunup at this point, Ilya planned to meander through town and hopefully run into one of the boys, or perhaps their Servants. From there, it was up in the air.

For now though, she could put all that on the backburner while she enjoyed a late-night ride on her personal force of destruction.


	18. Interlude: Aftermath III

AN: Hello again everyone!

I really don't have much to say on this chapter, but I will say that some of the questions people have had about the relations between the magi and the Soul Society will finally be explained here. Hopefully this will make things clear to people and make the story more enjoyable to those who wonder about the intricacies of fusing these two settings. It's not easy, let me tell you!

Phew! Work continues to eat up my time, but I'll keep writing as long as you keep reading (and probably longer). As always, read and review! The PM box is always open for those with questions and concerns, too!

_Interlude: Aftermath III  
_

After the initial explosion of incredulity, the students and Soul Reaper from Karakura had to take a moment to wrap their heads around the implications of the supposed identity of Saber's weapon. It was Uryu who spoke first: "You are certain that she called her weapon 'Excalibur,' Rider-san?" he tactfully asked the question on everyone's minds.

"Yes. Is there something unusual about it?"

"I'll say there is!" Tatsuki barked and pointed to the portrait of the slight girl from Ichigo's book. "Excalibur belonged to _King Arthur_! King! As in male!" While having almost no interest in mythology, even the athlete had picked up a few old stories over the years, and the tales of knights and heroism were a personal favorite of hers.

"While I am certain that the myths may ignore a few details, missing something so important at the time as the king's gender seems more than a little ridiculous," Uryu followed up, his expression still gobsmacked.

"…Maybe he was a cross-dresser?" Rukia ventured, her own understanding limited, but even she had heard of King Arthur and Excalibur while looking for reading material… to improve her understanding of the Living World, of course! Nothing at all to do with her fascination with the epic story or anything like that…

Several in the room shuddered at the thought. "That's a possibility I _really_ don't want to consider…" Ichigo muttered. "How the HELL did the Knights of the Round NOT notice?"

"Perhaps they had a hand in concealing the matter. Skill at arms and leadership ability might have been enough to earn many warriors' loyalty and discretion," Rider postulated, unmoved by the increasingly baffled group.

Her active imagination fired up, Orihime dropped a fist into her palm when a thought hit her. "Or maybe the queen was the real warrior, and the king was like a house-husband!"

"…That… could work if she wore an enclosed helmet… and wore more traditional armor…" Uryu mused absently, trying not to get pulled by Orihime's vivid imagination. He could almost see the regal king of Britain washing dishes… The implications of his friend's imagination trying to rub off on him were terrifying to the young Quincy.

Chad, ever the calm and centered one, pushed the shock to the back of his mind before his baritone rumble caught everyone's attention. "Does it really matter? The important part is that we know who he…or she, is. We can look into her history from there."

Ichigo glanced at Rider for a second at that. Chad had a point. Besides, his own legendary warrior looked nothing like what one would think of at the name Medusa. It made sense that there would be other secrets lost to history in other legends, too.

Still, SOMEBODY had a lot of explaining to do on how badly King (Queen?) Arthur was remembered.

"But we can't be sure if any of the legend's true unless we're sure she's really King Arthur and not some body-double," Tatsuki grumbled.

Rider shrugged off their concerns easily. "Then look into her Noble Phantasm. If Excalibur has only been used by her, then her identity is as you suspect."

"It's a starting point, at least," Uryu sighed before a yawn forced its way out of his mouth. "As it stands, we will hopefully recognize her should she leave wherever she and her Master have hidden themselves."

"Assuming tonight doesn't cause them to fortify a defensive position," Rukia muttered, her fingers already twirling her Chappy-themed pen as she started writing her daily report. "So aside from the estimated ability of the Saber's Noble Phantasm and her speculated identity, I'll send a request for a medic to examine Ichigo. Anything else I should mention before I send it off?"

"Lancer. Let them know that he's up there at least in the upper lieutenant level in power, likely higher since he's never used his Noble Phantasm yet, or really anything but that spear, now that I think about it," Ichigo reminded her. "Also, Archer and Saber both appear to be working together, along with their Masters. They could be trouble if they start gathering more allies."

"Hollow activity has dropped off for the most part, though there still is an active number coming in periodically," Uryu added.

With a nod, Rukia stood up and moved to the table to concentrate on her work. "I suggest you all get some sleep. Tomorrow we're going to see if the Soul Society has further orders, and then we'll need to track down Saber's Master. You got a good look at him, right?" she pointedly focused at Ichigo.

"Yeah. He'll stick out almost as much as I do. Probably a student at one of the local high schools." Under most circumstances, Ichigo was terrible at remembering people outside his circle of friends, but once he labeled someone as friend or genuine enemy, he would never forget them… at least he hadn't so far. It had barely been half a year since he really had truly memorable foes to begin with. For now, the fact that the magus was a Master in the Holy Grail War was enough to earn Ichigo's full attention, and he remembered him clearly. "Red hair and light brown eyes. Almost gold, actually. A little shorter than me. He's got some spiritual pressure too, not much though."

"If that is the case, Archer's Master might also attend the same school to cover him, especially since they are now aware of Ichigo and my abilities," Rider postulated. With a slight stretch of her arms and back, the statuesque Servant turned towards the balcony. "I'll keep watch. With this being the most active night so far for Servants in battle, there is a chance Assassin or Caster will also try something."

"Good point," the Quincy said as he stood up and grabbed his laptop from the end table. "I'll do the same for the next few hours and rotate with Sado-san, if that's alright." It made logical sense; Uryu's powerful spiritual senses would pick out oncoming Hollows and enemies long before they arrived, assuming they weren't working to conceal themselves from him. Chad would later make for a veritable living wall; anything that did try and slip by would have to effectively tackle a mountain to get anywhere.

"Mm," was Chad's affirmative grunt before he too stood up to get ready for bed.

Uryu then turned back to Rider, his expression thoughtful. "In fact, considering the way Ichigo's spirit energy is behaving, why don't you go to bed too, Rider-san? If you limit your own energy expenditure, it may help speed Ichigo's recovery."

Orihime brought a finger to her lip for a moment before focusing on Rider. "That's right: you haven't slept in almost two days," she said with a gentle expression that confused Rider. It was as if her concern had exponentially increased the normally silly girl's maturity. "I know you said you don't need it, but it's not a bad thing to rest every now and again, especially with friends keeping you safe."

"You've earned it," Ichigo added, anticipating that his Servant would look to him for approval first.

Admittedly Rider had every right to be concerned, given the way tonight turned out. Even with all of their pooled knowledge and experience, they were no closer to figuring out what was hindering Ichigo's energy recovery, which made it almost impossible to fix. Even then, worrying about it wouldn't change anything, and the group would simply take it in stride until they got more information.

After a moment, Rider nodded with a slight smile. "It has been a busy few days, hasn't it? I will see you in the morning, then." She hoped that when she finally did sleep, the mysterious entity that had taken control of her dreams would be more willing to answer her questions now that she had revealed her identity to its "partner."

One by one, each of the teens left to prepare for bed save for Uryu, who extended his spiritual senses outward even as he settled in for some late-night research. Once the living area cleared out and everyone had cleaned up for bed, the only sounds that were heard for the next few hours were the faint scratching of Rukia's pen and the slight whirring of Uryu's computer.

Reading her report over one last time for any errors or missing details, Rukia finally nodded in satisfaction. Having served in the Thirteen Court Guard Squads for almost five decades, Rukia had long developed the habit of being both meticulous and succinct when it came to writing her reports. While true that this mission was her first long-term mission that required daily reports, the short Soul Reaper put all of the effort into each one that she usually put in her post-mission documents.

Having met her personal specifications, Rukia opened her travel bag, one with her cartoon rabbit on the flap. The envelope she pulled out was one of a stack of about thirty, appearing to normal humans as nothing more than standard manila envelopes. To those with spiritual sight there wasn't much difference: just a single circle in red ink with a black butterfly logo, the same kind as the Hell Butterflies used by the Soul Society. Once the report was safely tucked inside, she placed her palm over the emblem and pushed her spirit energy into the logo, muttering a Kido chant quietly and finishing by stamping the corner of the envelope with her name and rank.

In response, the ring of red ink spread out, widening until it escaped the envelope entirely, just large enough to encircle it. The ring then released a soft white glow, the envelope sinking into the pool of light beneath it before the light vanished as well, leaving no trace that it or the report ever existed in the Living World.

This form of sending information was rarely used, considering most Soul Reapers went back to their divisions almost daily at the end of their patrols, though such a system did have its uses. In the rare case where a mission required deep infiltration, enough of these dimension-hopping envelopes were given to the assigned Soul Reaper to last one month. It was said that the shed wing scales of Hell Butterflies were used in their manufacture, and the requisite care the black insects needed made the gathering of such materials a painstaking process, especially in the amount needed for the woven Kido spells to function.

The report would land on Captain Ukitake's desk within the hour, assuming the members of the 13th squad in charge of forwarding reports were still on duty. By around noon, any updated orders would arrive on the table where the report was last sent. With any luck, her Captain would have some advice for them. This reactionary set-up just wasn't working! With those thoughts, Rukia plopped down on the coach across from Uryu and set herself in a meditative stance, slowing her breathing to reach into her inner world. Perhaps Sode no Shirayuki could offer some advice…

For the time being, all was quiet in their little corner of Shinto.

* * *

"Assassin, I have need of you," Caster's voice carried clearly and almost melodiously over the stairwell where the swordsman she sought was stationed to guard.

The swordsman stepped up into the courtyard at the top of the stairway, his serene expression still slightly strained with his discomfort at the woman's presence. "What is it you require, Master?" For the most part, the day had given Assassin time to calm his spirit from the aftereffects of using Caster's mask. That said, when he looked past Caster, he felt a dread chill of premonition at the advancing mass of darkness following in her wake.

"Allow me to introduce our newest soldier: Kakolethros," Caster stated grandly before stepping aside to reveal the armored nightmare glaring disdainfully down at him.

Assassin's expression hardened, but he nodded in understanding. "An impressive creature to be sure. Where did you find him?"

Kakolethros's burning eyes narrowed. "_**I advise you not to speak to myself or our Mistress so casually, wraith,**_" he hissed, taking a step forward threateningly.

The moment Caster's hand left her side to bar his path, he stopped. "No, there is no need for killing, Kakolethros. Assassin is understandably wary," she said patiently before turning to Assassin. "As for Kakolethros's origins, he is the culmination of my research. A completely new kind of warrior: one that requires testing."

Assassin circled his Master and the dark warrior until he stood in the open space at the head of the stairs, leaving Kakolethros between him and the gate. "Am I to assume you wish _me_ to test his skill, then?" he asked coolly, eyeing the towering warrior. The cloak it wore looked to be made of darkness, the heavy thing sucking away ambient light and blurring its true shape slightly. Only its glowing purple eyes that never left Assassin's own gave away its exact position.

"Yes, little more than a test of his abilities, nothing lethal from either of you," she clarified before looking up at her creation. "I do not expect you to best him, as he is a Servant, but you should fight as hard as you are able. Will you do this, Kakolethros?"

"_**As you wish, my Lady,**_" Kakolethros replied with a humble bow. Caster gracefully stepped back to observe the battle while Assassin raised an eyebrow at the armored devil's deference to the dark sorceress. With a shrug of its broad shoulders the shadowy cloak dissolved as if eaten by acid, revealing Kakolethros's armored form in its entirety. He said nothing, simply assuming a stance with his legs wide and his body leaning forward like a wolf ready to attack.

Slowly, the false Servant drew his extremely long blade, tossing the sheath aside and bringing the weapon to his side. "Will you not draw a weapon?" he asked with a tone colder than an arctic wind. This thing before him… it made his skin crawl with revulsion. It was unnatural and exuded an aura of menace that reinforced the notion of it needing to be eradicated before Caster conjured forth another like it.

Kakolethros said nothing, his eyes carefully measuring Assassin's weapon and how he held it before opening his fists. The night's darkness around them _pulsed_ for an instant before tendrils of blackness leaped from every direction, seemingly donated by every shadow around them into his waiting hands. In his right arm, a small bar of darkness widened and flattened itself, etchings and various embellishments barely visible in the shadowy metal that was quickly shaping into a sword roughly thirty inches long with a leaf-shaped blade, though it never looked completely tangible. Caster recognized it as a xiphos: a versatile secondary weapon favored by Greek infantry during the Age of Gods and the model for the later Roman gladius. In Kakolethros's other hand, darkness swirled into a round shield just over three feet across. Assassin couldn't be sure (nor did he particularly want confirmation), but he could swear that screaming skulls and demonic masks were leering out at him from within the black shield.

Assassin wasted no words, swiftly stepping into range with an artful swing of his sword. It was a testing blow: quick and smooth, but nothing more. The creature obviously saw it coming and tilted his shield to redirect the strike…

…And followed it up with a Hollow-like roar as his sword-arm blurred in a vicious thrust towards Assassin's stomach. Assassin slipped back, suddenly finding himself pursued relentlessly by the larger warrior. It wasn't particularly skilled or dangerous to him, but Assassin limited himself to around his opponent's pace, gauging the level of Caster's monster. Assassin swayed like a reed around the almost mindless swings, unimpressed with the creature's mad rush, and thus almost missed the shield swinging at his temple. With a graceful twist and back-step, he evaded the attack and resumed his neutral stance. Skill-wise, the gap between them was immense, but the creature was definitely attempting to counter it with an instinctive cunning. '_So his madness is but a ruse to draw his opponent into leaving an opening. A risky gambit._'

The next time Assassin advanced, he attacked more aggressively, meeting Kakolethros's charge head-on and easily forcing the slower creature on the defensive. Their strength proved effectively equal, the superhuman power behind the dark knight's blows countered by Assassin's abilities as a Servant. Of course, the real differences were in speed and technique. Kakolethros was fast for his size, yes, but compared to the wind-like swiftness of Assassin, he might as well have been trying to cut a swallow in mid-flight.

The irony of that mental comparison was not lost to Assassin.

The indigo-clad Servant's sword tore into the shadowy shield in a sudden rush, wary of the way Kakolethros held it up to hide his sword arm completely. Sure enough, the next counterstrike emerged from under the shield wisely aimed at Assassin's torso.

While true that aiming for the head in combat was often a good move, as a hard enough hit will often disorient or addle an opponent if it doesn't simply kill them, it is unfortunately a small target, and the skull offered better protection than one might think. Striking for a person's core was a better option when faced with a faster opponent. There were plenty of organs that caused crippling or lethal damage with nowhere near the level of protection of the head as well as being much easier to hit. The fact that Assassin wore no armor only made his torso an even more tempting target.

Kakolethros was no fool, never showing any sign of underestimating Assassin or even blinking while Assassin almost glided just out of range. With the slightest thought, the sword in the dark knight's hand lengthened with the speed of a striking snake, the blade shrinking and the hilt stretching out in front and behind. Assassin, clearly surprised, shifted his direction in mid-step to avoid the black spear that was a short sword barely a half-second ago. Even with his superior speed, Assassin never guessed that his foe's weapon was so malleable, not even requiring his dismissal before a new weapon took its place.

With the change in weapon, the attacks that followed changed accordingly, the spear sliding along the outer edge of the shield seemingly at random as Kakolethros advanced relentlessly, the weapon's tip a mad blur. Again, Assassin found that the seemingly berserk barrage was nothing more than a ruse to set the giant up for a lethal shot. His strikes looked instinctive and bestial, but the underlying cunning never changed.

Case in point, Assassin lightly deflected the spear away from him only for his vision to be completely obscured by the demon man's massive shield. From so close, he could clearly see the shifting skulls and leering demons Kakolethros had engraved into the dark metal with his will. With the massive slab in the way, it was impossible to tell where the creature's next attack would come.

Assassin however, was not an amateur swordsman who relied on just his eyes. The moment the air rippled along his skin, Assassin twisted his body, his sword arcing around the shield as he rolled away from the thrust Kakolethros had attempted to put through his side. Forced back, the soldier resumed his stance while Assassin reevaluated his opponent from across the opened gap.

Kakolethros had noticeably improved his sword and spear skills.

At a pace that no human could ever match, Kakolethros was learning from Assassin, closing holes in his defense and attacking more precisely, even with the strikes that seemed the most reckless or berserk. While before the creature was nothing more than a decent fighter, now he carried himself with far greater poise and stability like he had fought in a dozen battles already. "Impressive reactions," he stated cordially, though his expression continued to show his disgust at the giant warrior.

"_**No words, wraith. The battle continues until our Mistress decrees otherwise!**_" Kakolethros roared as he charged again, his thrust dodged with the same ease as always. Even though the creature was getting smarter and more skilled, the gap in both speed and skill between him and Assassin was too wide for Kakolethros to ever hope to cross. Even so, he had a few more tricks to test first. In the span of a split second, the spear in his hand rippled ever so slightly, just enough for Assassin to notice, though nothing changed in the shaft of the weapon. Only when the air whistled behind his head did Assassin realize the danger he was in. He crouched suddenly and watched a black sickle pass where his neck was a heartbeat ago. The rearmed demon swiped out with its new sickle twice, twisting the blade with a skill that should have taken years of training to attain. And yet no matter what weapon he tried, Kakolethros could never so much as take a single hair from Assassin's head. Considering how long the Servant's hair was, that meant something for Assassin's skills.

The monster's weapon shifted mid-swing when Assassin smoothly stepped inside the sickle's range, becoming the sword it had started as. Even with the shortened range and quicker swing, the dark knight barely managed to intercept Assassin's gleaming sword aimed for his neck and hold it in a deadlock. Kakolethros's glowing eyes, which had never stopped focusing on Assassin at all, narrowed menacingly. When a strange violet light appeared between the two fighters, Assassin glanced down and immediately disengaged in a burst of speed. The fanged mouth emblazoned in Kakolethros's cuirass had… opened like an actual mouth poised to devour him, and in front of it a ball of purple light emanated a hellish heat.

"_**Μηδέν!**_" At his command, the ball condensed for a split second and then erupted out in a stream like a dragon's breath, almost seeming to chase the Servant as Assassin pulled back before he twisted on his foot and let the blast scream inches from his chest and into the trees surrounding the temple. The blast incinerated the bark it touched before the unstable energies detonated fiercely, the poor plant splintering in two as a chunk the size of a beach ball was shredded and partially incinerated.

The attack, though bearing a more-than passing resemblance to a Cero, was not one. Kakolethros was made from a single normal Hollow: one with nowhere near enough power to wield the infamous Doom Blast. Instead, the instinct and magic that forged him was channeled in a weaker facsimile that could still strip flesh from bone and scar the earth. It was not an attack that would be used lightly, but the ability to fire such attacks would make him a credible threat to any magus.

With a smile visible beneath the lip of her cowl, Caster lifted her hand. "Enough," she declared, and Kakolethros immediately dispelled his weapons, though he did not look away from Assassin until he too lowered his sword.

The creature then turned back to its creator and dropped to one knee "_**Were you satisfied with my abilities, Mistress?**_" Kakolethros asked even as shadows crawled up his form, swathing him in his dark cloak once more.

Caster's tone was that of a pleased monarch to her favored champion. "Yes, very much so. Stand: I have a task for you before this night is out." Once her new knight had fallen into step behind her, she glanced back at Assassin. "Return to the gate. I give you permission to siphon some of the collected mana here to restore your strength. Good work." Though less cordial than with her creation, Caster learned too much from that sparring match not to show _some_ appreciation for her Servant's cooperation.

Kakolethros was actually extremely impressive from her perspective. Sure, he wasn't anywhere near as fast as Assassin, but then again her gate guard was even faster than Saber. Her artificial soldier just proved himself capable in all areas of combat and physical ability, enough so that he could survive against a Servant for a time before escaping, should the need arise. To Caster, the more important aspect was the creature's devious mind. Switching weapons on the fly and using all of them with proficiency was no small feat, and he did so with a tactical acumen that would befuddle even experienced fighters. She had to see more of what he was capable of, and she had just the test in mind.

Assassin, however, ruminated on Caster's new pet gravely while he resumed his post in astral form. During the fight the entity had put out a monstrous pressure behind its every action, an overwhelming hate and predatory hunger that reminded him too much of the feelings that Caster's mask drew out of him. Even though Assassin was merely gauging Caster's minion and trying to draw out Kakolethros's abilities, never pushing himself, the monster unnerved Assassin on a primal level. The creature's learning abilities were staggering: even at the end of the fight, the dark knight had attempted to turn Assassin's attack into a trap, his shield positioned to limit Assassin's escape for that magic blast. It was troubling how quickly Kakolethros had developed from a single combat, even when he did not grow any faster or stronger: he just grew more skilled.

What would he be able to learn and do within a week serving Caster?

The possible repercussions of creating such a monster, or worse making more of them, chilled Assassin's blood… or would have if he had any in spirit form.

* * *

There were few things as pleasant as clear, quiet night in the Soul Society in Jushiro Ukitake's opinion. While he himself was stuck sitting at a desk with only a small lamp for light, he made sure to move his workstation to the edge of his office, allowing him to enjoy the evening with the windows opened wide. It did his heart good to look out over the parade ground, where clusters of off-duty Soul Reapers sat about to stargaze or share a drink under the moonlight

Among the Thirteen Court Guard Squads, the Thirteenth Division was perhaps the most social, with Ukitake making sure to endorse teamwork and bonding with their squad mates regardless of rank. Though nowhere near as informal as the Eleventh, the members of the Thirteenth tended to treat their co-workers as a second family. Almost everyone could recognize everyone else and had friends all over the division, bridging gaps between the various social classes and in their own way forming peaceful ties between families.

Ukitake himself had gotten invites for every marriage involving his subordinates, had been to over half of them, and was only kept from the others by his duties as a captain or a bad flare-up of his illness. Considering how powerful and cheerful the white-haired captain was, many found it difficult to believe that Ukitake was so ill until the first time he coughed up blood.

No matter how long he ran his division, Ukitake always made sure to reach out and bond with the members of his division, leading many to see him as a lovable uncle or older brother. This also had the effect of making the captain worry quietly over the members of his division out on deployment. For the most part, it was unnecessary, as the men and women he led were all competent and were assigned to sectors with low Hollow activity. Even if a fight did occur, he could trust them to know when to fight and when to call for aid.

However, one particular case brought a knot of discomfort to the long-haired captain. One of his most capable and trusted officers was on a delicate mission that only grew more and more dangerous with each passing hour. When he had agreed to send Rukia Kuchiki back to Karakura and then to Fuyuki City, he had felt that between her and her friends, there would be no problems even if a straggler from Aizen's army appeared.

And then her first report had hit his desk, revealing what was behind the spiritually charged inferno that had scarred hundreds of souls a decade ago.

**Magi.**

If there was ever a word that brought more headaches to the Soul Society's upper echelons over the last five hundred years, he had yet to hear it. On the whole, the tiny number of magi that caught the Soul Society's attention and the possible danger they posed meant that usually only seated officers were aware of their existence or had any sort of interaction with them. The rest of the squads were mainly told to just watch for spiritually gifted humans. In fact, most magi were not spiritually aware anyway, their "magecraft" focused on affecting the physical world. A magus and a Soul Reaper could be leaning against the same light post and not notice the other at all.

Most magi were simple researchers focused on the magical aspects of the world and reality. Admittedly many were capable of being just as crazed and deviant in their pursuit of this esoteric knowledge as the current captain of the Twelfth Division, Mayuri Kurotsuchi… and in some (thankfully) rare cases, _exceeding_ that man's madness in disturbing ways Ukitake could hardly imagine as humanly possible. There were also those that stepped into forbidden territory and began capturing, destroying or otherwise bringing suffering to the souls of innocent people, both living and dead. Several magi who were discovered performing such atrocities were even silently killed by Soul Reapers in the old days, but each new magus encountered had developed a new means to try and protect themselves from the increasingly irate guardians of the dead.

When the largest organization of magi was founded in England and became known as the "Mages' Association," the Central 46 had considered bringing them to heel using the Stealth Force, the ninja-like warriors tied to the Second Division, to keep a sharp eye on their research and ensure it never delved into souls and punish transgressors aggressively. Jushiro himself was vehemently against this, believing that magi would limit themselves to the physical world as time went on and more of their theories hit dead ends, and that heavy-handed intervention in human affairs would only weaken the Soul Society in the long run. The Soul Society had no problems letting humans advance themselves, but the supernatural focus of magi apparently unnerved the council too much, especially given how many magi proved themselves amoral to their fellow man. The fear that spiritually aware humans might appear from their ranks and disturb the balance of life and death would eventually result in the genocide of the Quincy a few centuries later.

The issue of magi and the Mages' Association raged for nearly a decade, some of the more radical members wishing to make supernatural research forbidden in the Living World entirely, others merely wanting to protect the Soul Society from overly ambitious individuals. For example, Michael Roa Valdamjung and his total freedom from the natural cycle of death and rebirth was still a sore subject, even with the last True Ancestor assassinating him every time he appeared. If he spread his research to others, both the Living World and the Soul Society would quickly fall into grave danger. It seemed that no consensus would ever be reached.

And then, during one particular session, a man had miraculously appeared in the center of the room in a burst of multicolored light. The man was one that many in the room recognized as a terrifying savior from long ago, one who had disappeared over a century prior. Ukitake still felt chills race down his spine at the man's power to this day. While the sickly captain was not one to doubt Yamamoto's power, even Ukitake was wary of betting against this man. After all, this was the man who could move between dimensions as easily as one took a step and had enough power to stop a falling _moon_ and _shove it back into orbit_:

Kischur Zelretch Schweinorg.

He had come directly from whatever world or room he was staying at to negotiate with the Soul Society in the hopes of allowing both sides to avoid stepping on the other's toes while pursuing their duties and passions. It was actually rather impressive how all talk of wiping out magi disappeared the moment the man set foot in the room and had yet to be brought up in the centuries that followed that session. Zelretch never even threatened anyone either. Just by showing up, he had become something of a boogeyman, as the unwilling vampire had proven that no defense or any amount of concealment could prevent his entry should he choose to act.

Rumor has it that captain-general Yamamoto still welcomes the vampire with tea and a game of shougi every few decades or so to swap stories and to face someone as an equal politically, spiritually and mentally.

The result of the negotiations granted the Mages' Association the right to pursue their research and to police their own affairs _so long_ as they did not attempt to capture or harm human souls… including Hollows. In exchange, the Mages' Association was to quash or at least redirect any attempts to look into the afterlife and forbid any form of study into dimensional travel that did not have Zelretch's approval. As the only master of the Second True Magic and a high-ranking member of the Association, it was his right.

The Mages' Association and their affiliates were also to hold the existence of the Soul Society in the strictest of confidences, with only their highest-ranked members permitted to know of their existence. In addition, the Soul Society was not allowed to intervene unless a magus was found to be conducting illegal experiments on the subject of souls and managed to avoid detection by the various policing groups for one year. There were exceptions to this rule, particularly if evidence was discovered of vampirism or demonic possession, in which case the Soul Society had to right to intervene directly if they felt the Association could not handle it.

Sealing Designates and rogues that had escaped these groups were placed on a list of "Philosophers," those who pursued their forbidden research even after escaping their Sealing Designation, and "Hermits," who just wished to be left alone by the magical community in spite of their abilities. An updated copy of this list, edited to highlight those whose research was most relevant to Soul Society's domain, was periodically transferred to the First Division. Anyone on those lists was fair game for the Soul Society to deal with on an individual basis, although most chose to deal with the former group when possible while merely observing the latter closely.

Most of the time, the tactics of the Enforcers were enough, but other times vampires managed to conceal themselves even from the most vigilant Soul Reapers and magi or were simply too dangerous to confront directly. Most of the Dead Apostle Ancestors fell into this category, though many vampires who tried to enter their ranks were dispatched by a zanpakutou before they got close to their level. That said, politics often interfered, particularly with canny vampires worked to ensure that they never harmed human souls; they simply killed their victims and let their souls pass on. In those cases, the Soul Society's normal rules of not interfering in human affairs tied their hands.

Because of this treaty, the Fuyuki situation was more than a little delicate. The Thirteen Court Guard Squads would not break their oaths, especially not while Yamamoto held office. At the same time, Rukia's reports painted a picture of a barbaric ritual involving the manifested forms of legendary figures fighting each other, each with the capacity to devour souls. Already, Rukia had evidence of several dozen victims having their souls drained, many of which might never fully recover from the strain even if they did survive. If the Soul Society stepped in to dismantle the ritual directly it would breach the treaty and, depending on the importance of the actual ritual, could lead to the Mages' Association responding in kind, causing worldwide spiritual chaos and carnage.

The biggest problem is that it was unknown who created this ritual and the specifics of its mechanics. Without that information, there was no clear way to deal with the matter swiftly. It was assumed that the "Holy Grail" that everyone was fighting for would have to appear before the winner, which would be the best time to seal it away or destroy it. At the moment though, there was no sign of anything with enough spiritual power to cause another fire like the last one anywhere in the city, just a gradual buildup of spirit particles that blanketed the entire area. Based on his research, Ukitake worried that this entire mad "war" had occurred at least four times in the past right under their noses. Thankfully, a lot of information was willingly given by Kurosaki-san's own Servant: this mysterious "Rider." Sadly, she so far had revealed nothing on how to stop the ritual itself aside from winning.

Ideally, Rukia's party would have captured a magus during one of their engagements, but it appeared magi had long perfected their ability to conceal themselves from spiritual sensors. Worse, the Servants were proving far more capable combatants than anticipated. The idea of these beings turning out strong enough to fight lieutenant-level and higher opponents was disconcerting to say the least. Even if it was largely a free-for-all at the moment, magi had long proven to be viciously paranoid group, and any sign of interference in one of their affairs from outsiders would likely have them scurrying for cover, resulting in the loss of all leads. In the World of the Living and behind their wards, it could quickly become impossible to face them directly without causing a huge, and very much unwanted, scene.

The fact that a direct assault was Kurosaki-san's preferred tactic… didn't exactly help. Even though the strongest member of Rukia's friends had to be fully aware of the need for discretion, his fighting style was prone to causing massive collateral damage with little subtlety. And if he couldn't go all out because of the possible damage, it would only make this War last longer.

Ukitake perked very slightly when one of his on-duty officers stepped into his office with a stack of papers, one of which was within a still sealed envelope. "Ah, thank you Daigo-san."

"Of course, captain. I know it's not my place, sir, but you might want to turn in soon," the dark haired Soul Reaper said as respectfully as he could, even though he came in here often and ended up having tea with the captain once or twice.

Ukitake waved off his subordinate's concern with a smile. "Don't worry: I was just waiting for these. I know better than to push myself too much," he replied genially even as he placed the papers in his box for sorting. Dismissing the officer, the captain pulled out the first item and sped through it, barely taking the time to ensure the requisition form was properly filled out before stamping his seal and grabbing the envelope beneath it. Sure enough, the insignia confirmed it as Rukia's daily report.

As clear and detailed as always, Rukia's report raised the danger level of the Servants immensely. For someone to almost completely overpower a captain-level Soul Reaper using their strongest attack while in Bankai… who could possibly reach that level in life?

Reading further, the captain lifted a pale eyebrow. "King Arthur Pendragon?" the Servant's theorized identity escaped Jushiro's lips unbidden, curiosity rife in his voice. Having died over two millennia ago, many of the world's legendary figures, especially those from Western Europe and beyond, never really had any impact on the old captain. He wasn't afraid to admit that he was out of touch with the World of the Living, but this was one of the few times Ukitake was motivated to do something about it. The libraries within the Seireitei were all packed with books penned by not only the members of the Soul Society, but several were bought or copied from the World of the Living, so finding something about a legendary figure should not prove that difficult.

Still, if a Servant held that much power while limited by its Master's reserves… The knot in Ukitake's chest tightened. He had never dreamed that magi would prove capable of bringing something so powerful into existence. Oh, it was one thing for the Servants to be superhuman, but to this extent? Maybe just having those six youngsters out there wasn't enough.

And worse, Ichigo Kurosaki needed a spiritual medical professional to examine his spiritual pressure for any sign of what was hindering his recovery ability. They did not need such a dangerous complication now of all times. Why couldn't things involving that boy ever be simple?

But the Soul Society was still in the process of filling the voids in its ranks. Without the looming threat of Aizen hanging over their heads, the Soul Society could finally put real effort into training potential captains and start passing out much-deserved promotions. Still, there had to be some who could join Rukia's unofficial team. He just had to know where to look.

It looked like the old captain was going to be burning the midnight oil after all.

* * *

Translations:

Μηδέν: Greek for "zero"


	19. Interlude: Malicious Shadows

AN: Well, _that_ plan backfired.

Apologies for the excessively long wait, everyone. I was hoping that I would be able to put out my chapters faster by writing shorter ones, but reality continues to undo my efforts. Worse, there was a period through almost all of September where I had no motivation. I was tired, frustrated and needed to clear my head. I have only recently gotten my groove back thanks to the encouraging words I received here and elsewhere. You guys know who you are, and it means a lot to me, thank you.

Now, I made this chapter a little longer than I expected, but there are the beginnings of the next arc laid down here. I have just one more interlude and then… well, Caster is a cunning witch, and has appropriately devious plans in mind.

Either way, I appreciate everyone's patience and once more extend a hearty thanks to Logan~ Murder of Crows for his diligent assistance and to everyone who reviews, favorites, and alerts this story. I said it before and I'll say it again: I WILL finish this story, come Hell or high water! You can count on that!

_Interlude: Malicious Shadows_

For the first time in several days, Lancer's mood was pretty good outside of a battle. Recovered from a great fight that had him hungering for a rematch and sitting beside Bazett comfortably on a park bench, he concluded his day was ending on a high note, at least compared to the last week. Having an attractive redhead fretting over him was definitely a nice change given how life was for him these days.

"_Are you sure you're alright? What hit you?_" Bazett asked in Gaelic, leaving a certain priest completely in the dark about their conversation. Her concern was evident, but she was relieved that Lancer was at least visibly unharmed.

With a shrug of his shoulders, Lancer told her, "_Ah, Berry-Brow just cut loose with his _Noble Phantasm_. Didn't even stick around afterwards, just cut and run._" His expression shifted to an annoyed scowl immediately after. "_And just when it was looking like I might get to go all out for once, too!_"

"…'_Berry-Brow?_'"

"_A kid with orange hair named after a fruit, the poor bastard!_" he clarified with a laugh. "_Full name was _'Ichigo Kurosaki.'" He normally would have tried to avoid giving names, for Japanese words and names would easily stick out to his Master, but Ichigo was already a known contender. Seriously, it amazed him that the kid was so free to give his name in an environment where information was worth more than a thousand lives. The warrior was drawn from his thoughts when his sharp eyes noticed Bazett's twitch at the name. Turning more fully towards his former Master, he raised an eyebrow quizzically. "_Something wrong?_"

Bazett found that her tongue refused to work in her hero's presence, and she released an uncharacteristic stutter. "_N-no, not wrong, but I've met someone by that name. He's part of a group I've been keeping tabs on lately. More importantly, what do you mean about you needing to go all out? As far as I could tell, he's certainly powerful, but you're… well, you are Ireland's _Mac an Tsolais_._"

The scowl was immediately replaced by a wide, toothy grin. "_Damn straight!_ _Berry Brow was pretty powerful, and he did have a weird technique that let him keep up my pace in short bursts. It was really strange to see: the kid would take only one step but move twenty yards any way he liked in that time. Didn't even kick up any dust while he moved that way, either..._" His face scrunched up in thought briefly. "_I thought it was a sort of spatial jump from what I saw the first time, but he was still physically moving, not warping space. Definitely an interesting technique, though. I wouldn't mind knowing how it works for myself._" In the end, Lancer put his musing off to the side and let himself ease back into a calm smile. "_Not that it would have mattered in the end: I still would have killed him even without Gae Bolg if he hadn't of had that trump card up his sleeve. I definitely wasn't expecting it to be a _Noble Phantasm_ that boosted his strength enough to catch me by surprise, of all things. Making it so dark that even I couldn't see more than a foot in front of my face when it activated didn't exactly help…_"

"_I take it you're already looking forward to a rematch, then?_" Bazett couldn't help but chuckle (she was far too mature to giggle like some high school girl) at Lancer's words. He was still exactly as she hoped he would be when she summoned him. Still, she filed away the fact that Kurosaki was possibly the bearer of some kind of Noble Phantasm. The number of families carrying those legendary tools would definitely narrow her search if she got just a little more information.

"_You know me so well! Next time I see him he'll regret leaving a fight with _Cu Chulainn _unfinished,_" Lancer joined her lighthearted chuckles happily from a moment before sobering his expression drastically. "_Okay, as much as I could talk about the fight, I need to know a few things that have been bugging me for a while now: how are you here, complete with two fully functioning arms and what have you been doing since we last saw each other?_"

Two small spots of red were visible on Bazett's cheeks under her hero's intense scrutiny. "_W-well, it's a long story…_"

"_That's good news to me. Any time __**NOT**__ spent around my '_Master_' is time I'm happy to burn._" It took a few moments for Bazett to collect her thoughts, but she managed to tell her story.

"…_So you dragged yourself to a shed and pretty much bled out before some mysterious golden light healed you? And you've been spending the time since then getting your strength back while looking for clues about it?_" Lancer clarified. It wasn't as though regenerating a limb was outside the limits of healing magecraft, and there were even those who could manipulate the body to survive fatal damage, such as pumping blood with a destroyed heart or manipulating the body even if some of the nerves were ruined. The real mystery in this case was the partial restoration of their contract's link, though only as a faulty shadow of the real thing and left Bazett with no Command Seals. Such a thing spoke of something beyond mere healing a wound. "_Any idea on who did it? Leads?_"

Bazett shook her head. "_No, but I have a feeling that the group I mentioned is a part of it. Unfortunately I don't have any conclusive evidence. The fact that _Ichigo Kurosaki_ is a part of that group only makes them more suspicious in my eyes._"

"_Hmmm… listen, I can't risk '_Master_' finding out who you're talking about and having me off 'em before you figure out how to get me back, so keep their real names to yourself. He's smart enough to pick 'em out of our conversation no problem._" Lancer grimaced at the thought. The sadistic asshole always seemed to pull relevant information about anyone he took an interest in within a day. Whether it was some obscure modern magecraft or just a sign of many resources he had access to, Lancer wasn't sure. Either way, the Celtic warrior wasn't about to hand the man any more information than was absolutely necessary. If the bastard wanted to know anything, he'd have to pry every bit of information from him piece by piece. Anything to make life a little tougher for the smug _mac soith_.

"_Naturally. I'm a bit stuck, though,_" the magus next to him admitted. "_There aren't very many experts on the mechanics of the _Holy Grail War_ out there, and I don't think my… situation… has ever come up. The _Einzbern_, _Tohsaka_ and _Makiri_ families might know, but they are all guaranteed to be _Masters_ who would probably kill me if I brought up the _Holy Grail War_ to begin with._"

"_Good point. Shit._"

After a moment of contemplative silence, Bazett leaned back heavily in her seat and wearily rubbed her eyes in frustration. "_Maybe if you get him to burn his Command Seals we can reestablish the contract,_" she grumbled.

"_Yeah, that might work if he didn't have help. Keep your eyes out for a blond man with red eyes in really expensive clothes. He's a _Servant_… from the last War. I can't tell what class he is, though._"

Immediately, some of the color drained from Bazett's face, and all emotion bled out of her voice, the cold Enforcer analyzing the information and coming up short with what she knew. "_How is that possible?_" Without the Grail, Servants required a staggering amount of prana to remain in this world. Even the highest-ranked Independent Action skill possessed by Servants should only allow one to survive for a week without a Master before the will of the World crushed the paradox of their existence and sent them back the Throne of Heroes. For a Servant to last ten _years_ without one should have proven impossible.

"_I have no idea how he's lasted that long without a 'proper' _Master_, but I do know that the basement beneath the Church has been turned into a prana harvester for him… It's gruesome shit, Bazett. Be careful,_" Lancer stressed the last words heavily.

Wisely, Bazett let the matter drop. Magi could come up with disturbing methods to attain their goals, and for one to unnerve a Heroic Spirit of Cu Chulainn's caliber qualified as "gruesome" indeed "_Who is his _Master_?_"

The demigod shrugged half-heartedly. "_From what I can tell, he doesn't have one. Just hangs around pissing me off and calling other people 'mongrel.' At the most, he's cooperating with my current _Master_._"

"_I'll… keep that in mind. I need to know more about the ritual itself before I can hope to get you back._"

"_Any leads you want me to check on?_" Even if it was a long shot, any chance to escape his current predicament was motivation enough for Lancer to hit the books if he had to. Considering that the warrior hated being idle long enough to read anything of length, that was saying something.

Bazett let out a sigh. "_If you ever have a chance, try and find the heir to the _Makiri_ family. They were the ones who designed the _Command Seals_, if I recall correctly. Otherwise, no._"

"_Okay, so we're basically done with that topic, so let's talk about something else, like those runes on your gloves._"

"_Here, have a look._" Bazett handed Lancer one of her gloves for him to inspect. The magus, for all of her skill and patience, could not keep from shifting a bit while her former (and hopefully his future) Servant appraised it thoughtfully."_So… what do you think?_"

"_Not bad at all for a rush-job, Bazett. It's a decent mix of runes with a solid purpose and meaning behind the arrangement. It's not a perfect choice of name for what you're looking for, but it'll do for now._" Lancer finally announced.

Fighting to keep from sighing in relief after hearing her hero's approval, Bazett nodded her head stiffly. "_L-like I said: I couldn't hurt that masked spirit with magic or physical strength at the time since I was still not at full strength…_" The magus wanted to smack herself for her stutter, but it was hard to remain calm when she was just praised by Cu Chulainn. The fact that she had to reveal a moment of personal weakness to him only made her reflexively attempt to defend her position. "_At my best I could have probably handled it in short order unless they have some other defense._"

Lancer scratched his head and rolled his shoulder. "_Huh. I had no problem with those things. Never boring fights, since they all try something different, but not much more than light exercise. Best I got out of them was about five or six seconds before they died._"

"_Yes, but you are a spirit yourself and a Servant besides. It makes sense you could deal with them so easily,_" Bazett pointed out. "_I haven't had a chance to test out the runes, though._"

"_They'd work for defense against evil spirits…_" Lancer stated confidently. "_…but if you showed those to Scathach, she'd drive her boot up your ass for going with something simple!_" Lancer said with a laugh. Thinking back to the days in his life studying magic and war always led him to his teacher, Scathach. She was a woman who tended to act tough and disdainful but she was both unbearably lonely and a genuinely kind person behind her scary smiles and acidic tongue. The Japanese had a word for that kind of person, but Lancer didn't particularly care to recall it. She was probably the most skilled warrior and rune mage in her time though, so seeking her out to learn from was a natural thing for Cu Chulainn.

Bazett managed to avoid looking crestfallen, knowing that the Servant was recalling fond memories and not truly looking down on her. "_What do you suggest?_"

Lancer leaned back on the bench and gave his fellow countryman a toothy smirk. "_I'm glad you asked. Let's start by stepping back from spelling names and think up some other arrangements._" It was refreshing to talk to a magus with some respect for runic magic and was competent enough to keep up with his knowledge of it. While it didn't get his blood pumping like a good fight did, it was a matter like this that allowed Lancer to show he was more than some simple fight-hungry meathead. He was a fight-hungry warrior-mage and epic hero, thank you!

Bazett listened intently, hanging on to every word with enthusiasm, mentally picturing the concepts in her mind's eye as Lancer explained some intricacies of Scathach's more advanced runic arrays. The theory of interchangeable arrays was still taught to those few who practiced runic magecraft, but mostly for the more typical fields of research and not for combat purposes. Essentially, one arrangement of drawn runes could work multiple functions and "settings" to do different things. The complexity of these systems meant they took time to set up, as well as extremely focused research to make sure the runes did not backfire on the user. Bazett had the perk of talking with a master of applying runes in the heat of battle. Drawing upon their combined knowledge gave Bazett a list of runes to try to manipulate into an array when she had some time.

Eventually, Lancer decided to call it a night. As much as he'd prefer to do otherwise, the sensation of his Master sharing his vision was growing more and more irritating. It was obvious that the grim sadist was waiting for one of them to slip up; to give him something to hang over their heads or simply grow bored enough to have Lancer kill Bazett. Though neither the Servant nor the magus truly wanted to, they parted ways easily, vowing to meet back at this little bench when possible.

Shortly after Bazett started back towards her hotel room, her spiritual sense, magnified by her runic array "_FIOS_," filled her with a sensation best compared to icy metal nails scratching at her skin without piercing it. A cold sweat broke out all over her body, and Bazett suddenly had the feeling that there was something out there, watching her and hating her with every fiber of its existence. It wanted her dead, and it would strike mercilessly when she could do nothing but roll over and die. The moment those thoughts touched her mind, the woman's expression hardened into razor-sharp wariness, a surge of prana racing through her Magic Circuits to banish the obviously unnatural compulsions attempting to break her down. Instead of panicking, she closed off her emotions and expanded her awareness. Yet, in spite of the intensity of this aura of hatred, the effect was spread out all around her like a heavy fog, hiding the source from her.

Bazett had a feeling that she might very well end up testing the combat effectiveness of her runes before she reached the relative safety of her room's Boundary Fields.

When the mysterious killing intent spiked, long-honed combat instincts had her turning towards the sensation even as she lowered her body and stepped right, a black streak missing her head by inches. The attack had come from a narrow alleyway across the street that linked this street with the next, the lights on either end of the space unable to banish the darkness in the center. Even with the benefits of the _Kenaz_ rune in place, the only thing she could discern of her attacker was that it was in the center of the alley, where the shadows were deepest. Two slits of purple balefire stared out of the darkness as the figures eyes, but all other features were unnaturally obscured. The icy sensation clawing at her skin intensified when the **thing** advanced on her, its emotions seething through the air; there was no concealing its intentions from her, in fact its intent was quite clear.

It **despised** her. It wanted to see her **dead**, to **kill** her with its own hands. To **slash** her throat and **crush** her bones. It **hungered** to watch her blood pool at its feet and laugh as her life slipped away.

"…_**I shall admit that I am a touch surprised that you have managed to keep your wit intact. Your 'courage' is certainly commendable, human… but it is ultimately naught but as meaningless as your own life.**_" The thing's voice was a deep and rich baritone, but every time its words reached her ears, she heard something _else_ as well: faint, chilling screams and tortured wails of tortured souls trying desperately to be heard over the thing's surprisingly eloquent speech. Everything about the thing's presence and voice amplified the unnatural dread pouring from it. Bazett slowly and carefully turned her side to the entity approaching, her gloved fists raised and her knees bent in readiness.

Finally, **it** stepped out from the alleyway, somehow seeming to take some of the shadows along with it in the form of a dark cloak. It was tall, more so than Lancer and towering over her by well over a foot, and completely covered in ominously embellished armor over a strong, masculine build. In one hand was a pitch-black shortbow, the wood appearing almost ashen as if it was carved from a scorched tree. The weapon was thick and twisted to the point that Bazett could tell that it would take monstrous strength to draw it, but the power behind it would in turn prove immense. The fact that the arrow it had fired punched through a steel light pole and imbedded itself nearly a foot into the brick wall behind that was proof enough that such strength was well within the monster's grasp.

Bazett said nothing to her attacker and closed off her expression, the cold focus of a professional fighter and sometimes killer taking over her thought process. She didn't need anyone from the Church telling her that this thing was an abomination and needed to be exterminated, nor could she afford to underestimate it. Even though she was still not quite at her best, this time she was much stronger than her first encounter with an evil spirit. She was not as helpless, but her opponent was undoubtedly more dangerous, as well. Prana flooded her Circuits, slipping into the runes scattered in her clothes, granting her greater speed and armoring her body. Despite her suit being nothing more than a simple three-piece found at any decent tailor, Bazett's body might as well have been girded in full-body SWAT gear for how tough it was with her runes activated.

Strangely, a new sensation saw fit to add itself to the familiar heat of the magical power within her. Some of her prana literally surged out from her skin, completely bypassing her magic pathways and shooting outwards in a pulse in every direction. The moment it faded, every muscle in her body felt charged and her senses clearer. All lingering traces of the creature's malignant aura were summarily banished in the same surge. Were it any other time, the Enforcer would have focused some of her attention on the specifics of the phenomenon to try and figure out what had just happened. Right now, there were other matters to deal with.

In reply to her shifting stance, one orb of amethyst flame that served as the creature's eye grew slightly, indicating that it had lifted an eyebrow, assuming it even had one, within its totally enclosed helm. "_**So you intend to writhe and gasp as you die, as would a fish while slowly gutted and robbed of its flesh. Your naïve hope of continuing life in the face of inevitable death is amusing to me, so I will take great pleasure in ripping your soul from your lifeless corpse.**_" With a derisive snort, the thing's bow warped in its hand, the string melding back into the shaft even as the ends stretched and curled in on themselves in opposite directions, forming a disc that soon filled with blackness and revealing it to be a round shield over three feet across. In his other hand, he gathered some of his malignant magical energy, girding it in his spiritual pressure into a ball in his hand that swiftly expanded into a dark short sword. The leaf-shaped blade moved with an almost liquid-like ripple, like it was barely holding its shape, the artificial killer's weapons reflecting the infinite shapes he could bestow upon them with the slightest thought.

"_**And now, whatever strength you possess shall become mine.**_"

Without any further banter, the monster released a very familiar howling roar linking the armored monstrosity with the _Noh-men_ in Bazett's focused mind. Blackness obscured the view beyond her foe, its cloak billowing outward with its sudden, furious charge at speeds normally only seen in Servants. If Bazett was an average magus or a simple warrior, the rush would have overwhelmed her instantly, but an Enforcer was a warrior _and_ a magus. With magecraft and combat experience heightening her reactions beyond those attainable by any natural creature, Bazett slid her body out of her opponent's range, ducking low and stepping back. She was given no room to breathe though: the dark sword immediately starting a ceaseless combination of stabs and slashes that flowed expertly into each other, forcing Bazett back step by step, the shield serving as a mobile wall to keep her from slipping around to the side.

The creature's assault attempted to corner the smaller woman with the building at her back, but Bazett shifted to the offense the moment her back foot touched the wall. With her shoes empowered by runecraft, the magus was able to push off the wall at speeds that rivaled even a mid-level Servant, her body skirting just to the side of the monster's sword thrust. She only just saw the black blade snake over the shield a second time in time to bring her fist upwards to deflect it.

The sudden burst of light from her glove and the sound close to glass shattering was almost enough to cause both fighters to stagger. Bazett's runic array glowed with a faint maroon light, and the surface of her glove hissed with wisps of what looked like steam. Her opponent's weapon on the other hand had cracked and a chunk was torn from it, the fragments dissolving into what looked like black smoke as they left the monster's weapon. The moment of surprise between them was barely even noticeable as the implications set in and Bazett launched her assault in earnest.

With her gloves' runes geared towards fighting malignant spirits as much as she was able to make them, the enchantments woven around her fists scorched the creature's shield even as it dented the metal from the physical and mystical force behind each blow. While more energy was funneled to the black disk to resist the pressure behind the attacks, Bazett's runes exacted a toll with every strike. She tried to strike at places that the shield could not cover, but its sheer size made it difficult. At the very least, the sudden blitz kept the armored behemoth from attacking further, its efforts forced to defense to regain its balance at the sudden shift in momentum.

Kakolethros's burning gaze remained steadfast in the face of the sudden blitzkrieg. This magus was not a mere meat bag that ran from a fight like most magi he expected to encounter among his prey. The instinctive spiritual senses gifted to him from the Hollow part of his makeup told him that the red-haired soul was surprisingly rich in spirit energy, but there was a bit of a discrepancy: she was hitting far harder than someone with her level of spiritual power should; moreover, his mistress had informed him that his prey had been gravely injured recently and should have still been recovering from the trauma. He had expected her to be much weaker. Magecraft was involved, and that made this encounter all the more intriguing to the dark knight. Either way, every strike the woman launched was carefully observed, their nuances laid bare to him, broadening his own options while unarmed. Experience was indeed the greatest, if cruelest, teacher to him.

Bazett stepped back suddenly, narrowly avoiding having her fist impaled by the bed of blades and spikes that burst from the shield's surface. The rain of blows had mangled it to near-worthlessness, and the shifting of the weapon was the last-ditch effort to regain the initiative. Much to the magus hunter's chagrin, the gamble had worked. In the brief pause, the shield collapsed in on itself and the remains of the shadowy metal folded until the malevolent knight was wielding a barbed and curved knife to go with the swiftly restored sword still in its right hand. As it lowered itself back into stance, Bazett felt a cold chill of premonition pass through her: her advantage of surprise was gone, and now the creature was going to face her with greater caution and with weapons better suited for fighting her up close if she slipped into his guard again.

This time, the armored savage took to the offense with a swift swing of the short sword. Bazett deflected the blow with her gloved hands before dropping into a crouch to evade the swipe from the dark thing's incoming knife. The weapon smoldered from the brief contact, but it just as quickly mended itself, not even slowing the monster down. Bazett's own attack aimed to crush the faceplate of that devilish helm, and missed by a hair's breadth. The creature's improved mobility without the heavy shield changed its fighting style completely, swaying almost like a reed with both blades dropping to its side before they swept out in snaking paths. It was almost frightening how much of a difference its change in technique was making.

…Or maybe it was just improving that quickly?

Their battle was interrupted by a blur of red slammed into the abruptly crossed weapons in the knight's hands. Instinct was the only factor that could explain why it was still alive, as there had been no warning. The twin blades barely managed to deflect the blurred attack to the side, allowing it to hop back outside the massive reach of the new attacker's weapon just in time. The attacker did not immediately pursue revealing that it was a very familiar barbed spear in the hands of an absolutely livid Servant: Lancer, whose dark blue outfit and hair made him indistinct when he moved during the night. "**That's no way to treat a lady, jackass**," he all but snarled, his spear already chambered for another strike. The normally jovial, grinning Servant had nothing but bestial rage in his posture and tone at an intensity that promised imminent death to the black knight. "**Who and what in hell are you?**"

Unlike every fight he had initiated in the War so far, Lancer was not about to play games with this monster.

The creature did not answer, the amethyst flames it had in place of eyes flickering slightly as it weighed its chances against both the Enforcer and the Servant. Finally, in an instant that lasted an eternity, the creature dispelled its blades and gripped the edge of its shadowy cloak in a burst of speed. The air was briefly filled with a tearing sound mixed with an angry groan before the armored figure whipped the cloak to obscure its form, the shadows twisting to swallow him in blackness. A moment later, the shadows returned to their normal arrangement, leaving an empty street.

Lancer kept his eyes locked on the space where the creature once stood, every sense tuned outward for the slightest hint of a surprise attack before his sharp eyes picked up on movement above. On the roof to his left and on the far side of the street well over a hundred feet away from his current position, the light from the moon and the street lights was disturbed by a fissure of the same twisting, smoky darkness opening and the armored warrior stepping out from a dark void just beyond it. "_**Tonight you are granted a generous reprieve magus, Servant of the Spear. Rejoice in your good fortune while you still live.**_" the creature declared with a low hiss even as he leaped backwards. It was a wise idea: Lancer's beast-like agility and speed had closed the two-story vertical gap in less than the blink of an eye.

Apparently the thing expected the assault: no surprise showed in its posture, simply swinging the mass of black in its hand outward. The mass flared open, revealing a black net weighted with equally dark metal weights. "A net? _Seriously?_ **Don't insult me, dumbass!**" Lancer roared, expertly swiping his spear with perfect timing at the metal weights, intending to force them to pull the net aside and away from Lancer.

Unfortunately, the moment his spear touched the weights, the net exploded into a cloying cloud of inky blackness that completely blinded the Servant for the second time in the night. This time instead of staying still, the Servant rolled to the side, bursting from the cloud and turned towards where his attacker should have stood.

The dark smoke was already almost completely dissipated in that instant, and the monster was nowhere to be seen. There was no sign of life… un-life, or whatever you called the dark knight's state of being, anywhere. He took a moment to scan the rooftops for any sign of movement before admitting that his enemy had gotten away. He hopped back down to the street in front of Bazett. "You alright? I normally don't like butting in on other people's fights, but I tell ya, something about that **thing** set off every damn warning bell in my head."

"I'm fine… I know what you mean though. Whatever it was, it has some tie to those masked spirits, but it isn't the same at all." The Enforcer turned the brief fight over inside her head, recalling every attack and defense and how the creature responded. "But… I don't think it was trying to kill me though, at least not very hard. It seemed more intent on watching how I fought, oddly enough." The implication that her opponent was simply studying her for later was actually more disturbing than if it was actually trying to kill her.

"At least you know your runes work" Lancer commented with a shrug before switching to Gaelic. "_Assuming no other obnoxious bastards come to screw with either of us, I'll see you later._"

Bazett gave a crisp nod. Her final words were also in Gaelic: "Tepadh leat, Lancer. _I'll wait at that bench tomorrow night._"

"_If the devil-priest gives me half a chance, I'll be there,_" Lancer replied before his body dissolved into spirit form and he headed back towards the church.

Not willing to stay herself, Bazett also took her leave of the scene, one hand in her pocket as she made a cautious retreat back towards her hotel. If a bystander or worse, a witness, tried to question her, she carried a bear claw in her pocket inscribed with a small runic combination that would allow her to erase periods of their memory. That said she made it a point to move as calmly as she could despite cutting through a few alleyways. She only allowed herself to relax when she was safe within her simple hotel room.

* * *

Considering how long Lancer had spent hanging around with his former Master, the blue-clad knight opted to simply rush straight back to the old church rather than dawdle like he usually would. He doubted his Master would really care, but antagonizing the man sounded like a horrendously bad idea now that Bazett was back in the picture.

Naturally, his Master was waiting for him, thumbing through a bible and taking notes for his next sermon. "Welcome back, Lancer. I assume your… reunion went well? I could only follow so much."

'_Fucking voyeur._' Despite his astralized state, habit made the Servant shrug. "Eh, pretty much. Dunno what happened, but some really powerful healer looks to be hanging around the city. Fixed Bazett up right good, but she doesn't have any functioning Command Seals. She's mainly just an extra prana battery for me." Hopefully playing down Bazett's position and his personal opinion of her would ward away the man's attention a little bit longer. Oddly, the priest never even mentioned the black monster he had encountered. Then again, the sadistic prick _would_ focus on Bazett's presence, if for no other reason than he enjoyed watching Lancer squirm to avoid giving anything useful away.

"…Interesting. It appears that there are indeed many new players to this Heaven's Feel," the grim priest mused before turning back to face Lancer more fully. "…As far as I recalled, McRemitz-san was quite fluent in Japanese. What purpose would speaking another language have here?"

"Call it national pride. Get off our backs."

The priest smiled cordially towards his Servant, despite him being astralized. "Fair enough. Keep a sharp eye out though, Lancer. It would be _most_ unfortunate if the fates once more put innocent bystanders in the line of fire."

Lancer gritted his teeth and suppressed a threatening growl. There was no mistaking the implied threat. "_Kotomine_…"

"I suggest you retire for the night. As you say, your former Master has no ties to you beyond your personal ones. She is in no danger so long as she does not provoke anyone for the time being. However, do keep in mind that if she were to place herself in the crossfire of the War, it is her responsibility to solve, _not yours_." It galled Lancer to admit it, but there really was nothing more that he could do for now; the chain was back and heavier than ever around the Hound of Chulainn's neck.

As for Kirei Kotomine, he had no doubts that Lancer and Bazett were in the early stages of planning something against him. He'd let it slide this time; it wasn't often something as simple as using a different language managed to so thoroughly confound him (_after all, Kotomine was quite fluent in several languages_). Letting them have their moment was the equivalent of tipping his hat to the pair for their simple yet devious method of denying him.

That, and thwarting their ploys and forcing them to kill each other later would prove positively _exquisite_.

* * *

Caster sensed the arrival of her champion at the base of the mountain and frowned, though not angrily. Really, she was more than a little impressed. Her original plan was for Kakolethros to face a Servant in order to build more experience and develop new tactics, but the presence of a magus caused her to shift targets. Magi would not prove as dangerous as a Servant while still exposing it to dangerous entities, not to mention eliminating possible Masters in case a Servant needed a new contract. She had made sure to focus on seeing through its eyes when Kakolethros closed in on its selected target.

The reason she was frowning was that the magus Kakolethros had selected had proven a superhuman fighter in her own right, and one with experience fighting the inhuman to boot. The use of runic magic was from after her time, but Caster could not deny their potency in battle. Of course, they were nowhere near as powerful as her Divine Words, but anything that could allow a human to survive a fight against her minions was worth watching out for. Moreover, the magus had charged into battle in complete disregard for typical magus behavior. In her time, magic users tended to avoid direct conflict, weaving spells to decimate foes from afar or misdirect them. This magus charged in fearlessly, not even trying to cast her spells and relying on her pre-cast wards along with fist-fighting. Time had certainly changed things, and she made a mental note not to let modern-day magi get too close in case they hid similar martial talent. She would need to also devise means to repel foes at close range as well, just in case.

She was also studying her knight's other new talent from an academic standpoint. In order to escape an unwinnable battle, Kakolethros had somehow torn a hole in space and moved through another rip that had appeared elsewhere. Such a technique was similar to her _Trofa_ teleportation spell, but worked on a different principle. While hers was more "changing location instantly," its method could be more accurately called "spatial tunneling." It was a fascinating ability with great strategic potential.

At the same time, it appeared that the mountain's spiritual barrier prevented this technique from reaching her sanctum, as instead Kakolethros had appeared at the base of the stairway; the only place where entrance was allowed by spirits without crushing them. To leave the path would weaken even Servants by a noticeable degree. Placing Assassin along the only passage simply made it even more treacherous to approach without her permission.

A moment later, the artificially crafted demon arrived at the gate. Just by looking at it, Caster could see that her new, favored minion was running low on energy. Though he did his damnedest to carry himself with proper decorum, his movements were stiff and sluggish. "Kakolethros," she called, stepping out from the shadows and into the moonlight.

Immediately, the armored creature dropped to one knee in reverence. "_**I have returned, Mistress. I am, however, ashamed to report that I proved unable to destroy my target. Punish me for my ineptitude in whatever manner you deem fitting.**_"

"That is fine for now. If you learn from a battle and live, you gain more than you lose this early in the conflict," Caster allowed graciously. "The moment the Lancer arrived, it was a lost battle anyway."

"_**I am graced by your generosity, Mistress. This servant is not worthy of such leniency,**_" the hybrid rumbled humbly.

"I am still most pleased with what I saw of your abilities. What skill allowed you escape the battlefield so quickly?"

"_**It is the**_** Skotopylae**_**: a gate of darkness that allows me to traverse through the void between the worlds known to Hollows. Unlike those pitiful damned souls' method, mine permits me to open two portals into and out of the void simultaneously in order to reach my desired destination instantly without need to set a single foot into the other world.**_" Again, the creature's voice was humble and low, addressing Caster as though she were a grand queen in her throne room.

"Excellent. Given that power, tomorrow night I want you to map the city using any means at your disposal until I order you otherwise. Having the ability to reach any point in the city at any time is far too useful a skill to not maximize."

"_**Yes, Mistress.**_"

"For tonight, Kakolethros, I can sense using so many powers so rapidly has depleted your strength. Take what you need from the temple's energies and prepare yourself for tomorrow night, but remain discreet. I am going to rest with my Master. Do not disturb me unless Assassin falls to an enemy attack."

"_**By your will.**_" The creature remained kneeling until Caster had left, inhaling slowly and tugging the prana in the air into his mouth, feeding on the ethereal substance. It was enough to steady his weary body, but the lack of_** life**_ within it only aggravated a more base hunger, one that harkened back to his origins. It was like drinking a protein shake while craving a steak dinner.

He remained there for a few moments, slaking his thirst before standing and starting towards the steps. The night was at its deepest; there was plenty of time before dawn broke. With even the slightest luck, the sun wouldn't even wash out a single star before he returned.

"And, pray tell, where are you heading?" a smooth voice caused the knight to pause. Assassin was, as always, leaning on the _torii _gate post, his indigo eyes narrowed in obvious distaste at the larger figure's presence.

"_**I am following my Mistress's orders as you are, wraith. I must hunt to be ready for tomorrow.**_" There was no need to mince words with an ally, even if Kakolethros found the Servant… irritating; beneath him, and unworthy of his Mistress's attention.

"I see…" Assassin muttered, his expression unchanging.

"…_**You do not trust me.**_" It wasn't a question, merely an observation.

"You are, simply put, an abomination that has no right to exist. Why should I trust such a thing that should never be?"

A sound equivocal to rolling thunder over a battlefield echoed from Kakolethros's helm while his shoulders shook slightly. It actually took a moment for Assassin to realize that the monstrosity was _chuckling_. "_**An amusing concept coming from one such as you, **_**wraith**_**! You are not even a proper **_**Servant**_**, and yet here you stand as if you belonged any more than I!**_" The monster paused, meeting the partially lidded stare of the swordsman with a measuring one of his own. "_**But… you are wise to be wary of me…no, not wise… rather, you have adequate instinct. Prey should always feel fear in the presence of a predator; after all, that is but the natural response.**_"

Something in the air between the two warriors shifted, though the only visible difference was a slight narrowing of Assassin's eyes. "Watch your tongue. You are not strong enough to leave threats against me, let alone any 'true' Servant," Assassin's tone belied his mood, coming off as sound advice rather than angry or offended. There was no mistaking the tension though.

Kakolethros shook his head, as though enjoying a private joke at Assassin's expense. "_**Even with your considerable strength, you are still a human are you not? Your kind, who fights their instincts with futile desperation, are no different from beasts trying to swim eternally against the ocean currents. No matter your strength, you cannot escape your fate, nor can you defy it,**_" His words were laced with, not mockery, but _pity._ To Kakolethros, the Servant was a pathetic thing worthy of only his disgust, and he did nothing to conceal his opinion."_**No matter how you attempt to justify your struggles, all of you humans are nothing more than prey for my kind. It is simply the inevitable end of your race's wretched cycle,**_" he added matter-of-factly, as though simplifying his explanation for a small child before resuming his descent down the stairs.

The swordsman was not about to let the monster go just yet, and he called out one last question. "And what about your 'Mistress?' Is she nothing more than 'prey' to your kind?"

The hybridized warrior bristled, the shadow-like materials making up its cloak rippling erratically for a moment like a wild beast. It turned its faceless head towards the offender, fixing its violent flare-like eyes upon the swordsman with as much hatred as it could muster. "_**SILENCE,**_" it commanded, voice booming with all of the fury of a rockslide. All traces of pity or mockery had vanished completely, rage spilling outward in an almost palpable wave of icy fury. "_**OUR Mistress is far beyond the realms of the prey. The mere fact that she studies to understand the predator and harness its strength for herself shows the true might and will she possesses in a manner that none shall comprehend nor prove capable of matching.**_" Blazing eyes of violet light pierced into the dark pupils of the Servant with inhuman intensity; every ounce of rage and contempt focused on the insolent spirit before him. "_**Do not compare your worthless self to the likes of her, WRAITH, lest you be struck down like the chained dog you are for your ingratitude.**_" With one last disdainful glare, the artificial monster pulled its cloak tighter around its armored body and descended into the streets below, his cloak seeming to pull at the shadows around him until his form was nothing more than an indistinct, ominous blur.

With a tired sigh, the false Servant looked up at the cloudy sky now that he was finally alone. "Twisted monster… you cannot even see the faults within your own mind, can you? Such a piteous thing you are, Kakolethros."

* * *

With the Karakura response team bedding down for the night, Tatsuki Arisawa found a moment to take a good look at her roommate. Rider had baffled the karate practitioner when she talked with them earlier. One more barrier had fallen between her and the group, a big one. She had dropped a lot of her stiff posture around them, and she hadn't once referred to herself as a weapon.

Time to start fishing for information. "So, aside from a near-death experience, anything interesting happen while you were running around?"

Rider turned and gave the girl a glance. A tiny spark of playfulness had lit up in the gorgon. Tatsuki was a very open person, so her reactions would be priceless. The first night proved it. "Well, there was a bit of a _moment_ between myself and my Master." She simply couldn't resist.

Tatsuki had to fight to keep a brow from twitching at Rider's tone. "Oh really? Do tell."

"Curious? I figured you were the kind who avoided gossip."

"I learned to keep my ear to the ground if it involves my friends." Tatsuki couldn't count the number of times a whispered conversation had been the only indicator she needed to get Orihime out of that lesbian nutjob's perverted clutches when she was out of the classroom back home.

"You are a wise girl," Rider stated approvingly of the girl's protective streak. "Yes, after my Master saved my life, we had a heart-to-heart talk under the moonlight."

A chill ran down Tatsuki's back and she very nearly choked on air.

"I never thought it possible for us to become so close so quickly, but he certainly puts his heart into everything he does." Rider thoroughly abused the notion of the best lies holding a kernel of truth and generously added a helping of leaving important information out.

"Yes… he does," the smaller girl bit out.

"I only wonder how far it would have gone had Ishida not found us," Rider added, making sure to add just the barest hints of a wistful smile.

Naturally, Tatsuki's face turned an unusually… florescent shade of red from the images her suddenly vivid imagination put through her head mixing with her indignation on how this interloper managed to get through Strawberry's thick head. Worse, Orihime was going to be _heartbroken_! "I- you- but- How did… WHAT THE HELL?"

'_Oh yes,_' Rider thought while fighting to keep her amusement from showing at her roommate's open emotions. '_Tatsuki is going to be so fun._' With all the grace and poise of a cat, Rider stepped up to the high-schooler and sat down on the bed beside her. "Is there… something wrong, Tatsuki? Are you… upset at me?" she pouted with a sultry purr as she leaned on Tatsuki's shoulder, her breath brushing the smaller girl's ear. "I can always find time for you, if you want…"

The stream of gibberish and panicked flailing was _priceless_. Tatsuki had leaped clear to the opposite side of the room, arms held up protectively before her and her eyes wide. Half-formed words and incoherent babble poured from her mouth before she noticed Rider's casual posture and amused smile. "Wh-what the hell are you looking at?" Tatsuki finally managed to ask.

Still smiling, Rider sprawled a bit on the bed, her long hair covering most of its surface. "I merely find it funny how you never bothered to ask what we actually talked about. I was honest, though: he impressed me with how strongly he feels about protecting his comrades. Even in the face of a Noble Phantasm more powerful than his strongest attack, he did not hesitate to fight because he was protecting me. He stressed that he cares not for the Holy Grail, only that we all see it through to the end safely."

It didn't take long for Tatsuki's posture to slump out of her defensive stance with a sigh of profound relief, both for her friend and her own chastity. She quickly realized had been played, and _good_. "Okay, you got me there. Context would have been nice, though."

"I gave you all of the context you needed and only held back on the topic. You merely leaped to some strange conclusion," Rider replied casually.

The black-haired girl threw her hands up in exasperation. "Gah, fine! You win!" she groaned even as she plopped down in a chair tucked near the room's massive window that overlooked the city and the river dividing it.

"Seeing as how I told you the important part of my day, I would like to hear about yours. What were you doing while I was gone?" Rider asked, deciding to cut the girl a break for a moment. Teasing her too much too fast would take the fun out of it later if she caught on, after all.

Eager to escape her frustration in dealing with the Servant, Tatsuki leaped at the opening to change the subject "Same thing as you: Hollow hunting," she replied with a smirk. Despite having several weeks of training under her belt from a woman widely acknowledged as one of the strongest martial artists in three dimensions, she had never gone out to actively fight Hollows before. Sure, she defended herself and bystanders in a pinch, but this was the first time she had actually sought them out to fight.

Thinking back on it, she wondered if her day was anything like what rank-and-file Soul Reapers went through. "It started off easily enough: you and the others did a good job keeping the numbers down to manageable levels. I've fought Hollows before, but I didn't have enough spiritual pressure to do serious damage until recently…"

* * *

_The morning had proven mostly uneventful. For well over an hour, neither Tatsuki nor Orihime sensed anything unusual, Hollows or otherwise. Of the two, Orihime's sharper spiritual senses allowed her to pick up on Hollows from almost a half-mile in any direction, sometimes more depending on who she focused on. Her empathy for people tended to allow her to find souls of those who were hurt or needed help more easily than she could sense others, for example. Then of course was her uncanny ability to sense Tatsuki or Ichigo over absurd ranges._

_Comparatively, Tatsuki could sense Orihime over as a gut feeling over any distance even across dimensions save in Hueco Mundo but could only sense particularly strong souls like Ichigo or Chad at a range greater than a hundred yards aside from getting the general direction of Hollows, whose dark energy stood out noticeably compared to normal human souls. In exchange, Tatsuki developed a knack for picking out subtleties in spirit energy at very close ranges. According to Yoruichi-sensei, she could eventually use this to sense changes that would warn her of incoming attacks and even the kind of attack being directed at her, physical or spiritual._

_Normally, this pair of empowered humans would only risk moving out with another, stronger ally like Chad or Ichigo, but as it was, Chad was exhausted from his long night, and Rider and Ichigo were both on the other side of the bridge doing their own patrols. Of course, it was not as though the two were _completely _without support. While they could not see him, they knew Uryu was watching over them, his vastly superior Quincy senses keeping constant tabs on them. If anything powerful enough to endanger them appeared, they would have to answer to Uryu's bow and its enormous range and stopping power._

_Drawing comfort from this fact, the two friends enjoyed the brisk morning air over cups of coffee from the stand where Tatsuki had run into Bazett the previous day before heading downtown. To anyone watching them, it would look as though a pair of high school girls had skipped school to hang out together. Considering many likely thought that sweet, innocent Orihime was being dragged around by her delinquent friend on a Friday, Tatsuki wasn't surprised by the occasional disapproving glare directed her way._

_Of course, the looks really didn't mean a thing to her. What mattered is that she was out watching for trouble on a level most of the world had no clue existed, let alone could do anything about. Most of her enthusiasm was tempered by years of karate discipline and knowing just how dangerous Hollows could be from firsthand experience._

_That did nothing to stop another part of her from feeling immensely eager to put her newfound power to use rather than sitting on the sidelines watching helplessly like she had been up to this point._

_Despite her eagerness, Tatsuki was not about to neglect her sworn duty of protecting Orihime from trouble that she was too nice to handle on her own. Some of the girls in school had even called her "the dragon that guards the princess." Now that she could fight against Hollows, she was quietly determined to make up for the times she could do nothing for her closest friend._

_It really didn't take long for Orihime to pick up on the sensation of reality groaning in protest from a Hollow coming into the World of the Living. Even though they picked up their pace, the two tried to appear nonchalant as they moved closer to the dark spirit's position, but it was very hard when one knew the stakes of fighting the masked souls._

_The need to hurry only grew greater as they drew nearer. The thing had manifested itself practically on top of the train station right at the heart of Shinto. It was a very modern building with numerous sloping arcs of concrete and steel and large glass windows covering the entrance to the station. Unlike in some areas of Japan, the train through Shinto ran entirely aboveground, so the station took up quite a bit of the block, serving as Shinto's business hub. People commuting in and out of the city numbered in the hundreds, all potential witnesses, or worse, __**victims**__. "Just our luck. We gotta do something!" Tatsuki hissed as she glared across the street, knowing that the Hollow was in there but doing a fine job of staying out of her sight._

_By far the most surreal thing for Tatsuki, though, was the way Orihime calmly took control of the situation and tugged on Tatsuki's sleeve. "We need to lure it out. Let's flare our spiritual pressure." The way she managed to say it with such steely determination only reminded Tatsuki a little painfully how much her friend had grown up without her._

_Both girls released a beacon of their soul's energy, drawing the attention of the masked soul hiding near the station's entrance. Unseen by the general populace, a long, thin creature slithered from its vantage point from underneath one of the concrete arcs. With a serpentine undulation, the shape sailed over the heads of the crowd, craving the fresh fountains of spiritual power calling out to it._

_Trying to keep from looking uneasy, the two girls prayed that the Hollow wasn't one prone to blind charges or at least that they were far enough away that it would close the gap some before striking. Unlike Rukia and Ichigo, they did not carry devices to erase memories, nor were they invisible to the normal human eye. They needed cover, and there were, sadly, no convenient warehouses or condemned buildings to fight in. Slipping through a few side streets took them away from the denser areas and into a more open area south of Shinto's business district._

_The Hollow had relentlessly tailed them the entire way, slipping down closer to street level as it tried to close the gap between it and its desired prey. By this point, the girls had stepped up to a jog, growing more and more agitated by the lack of good battlegrounds in this section of the city. The nearest area clear enough to openly fight in was still nearly half a mile off: the strangely chilling park that served as a memorial to the Fuyuki fire's victims. The place's strange aura of despair would keep all but strong-willed people from going deep enough to see them, hopefully. It wasn't perfect, but the alternatives were far worse._

_If they took too long, the Hollow would simply lose interest in the game and attack in the middle of a crowded street._

_If they tried to attack the Hollow too soon, they would face the same problem, with the added complication of people watching a high school girl somehow cause random devastation and perform unexplainable feats of strength and speed._

_Even if they were not using their spirit energy to energize them and counter fatigue, the two girls would have had no problems reaching the park and being fresh enough to fight. Tatsuki was a national-level martial artist in her grade, and Orihime was exceptionally fit from her own adventures. Even if Orihime was not able to enhance her strength at all, her endurance was surprisingly immense. For Tatsuki, whose abilities were largely focused on enhancing her physical abilities, she could keep up this modest pace all day and likely all night._

_Once the two were in the park, they darted into the grove of barren trees, their intense focus and spiritual pressure allowing them to completely ignore the cloying sensation of despair that the park exuded. They could only hope that the trees and the aura of dread obscured them enough to keep people from entering the woods. Finding a small clearing likely meant to serve as a picnic area in the spring, the two girls were given no time to think about their plan of attack from the sound of an eager hissing, mingling with the buzzing of a loud rattle coming from directly behind them._

_Turning, Tatsuki noted that even low-level Hollows could be quite large._

_This particular masked nightmare was at least thirty feet long, probably closer to forty, and easily thicker around than Tatsuki's whole body. Almost a third of that length was held off the ground, towering over the two girls menacingly. Its serpentine form was limbless, colored a deep russet marked by dozens of black slits over its scaly hide. The tail tip rattled ominously in an almost hypnotic rhythm, the segmented club of bone hefted slightly off the ground. Its white mask was wide and tapered into a wedge-shaped snout while the narrow slits serving as eyeholes bled out a dull red glow. For a second, neither party moved, watching for the slightest twitch from the other before Tatsuki martial artist flooded her whole body with a surge of spirit energy._

_That served as the bell ringing for the battle to begin. The serpent lunged at the source of energy, a pair of saber-like fangs flipping out and dripping black fluid as its mouth opened. Tatsuki jumped back while the Hollow twisted in mid-strike to follow her, its heavy bulk carving a small trench in the ground. Seeing the Hollow homing in on her, Tatsuki poured more power into her leg and brought it high over her head. The extra power bolstered her leg strength even as a controlled burst increased the speed of her downward axe-kick._

_The Hollow's eyes widened behind the mask at the sudden threat to its precious mask, and it jerked its head sharply to the side. Instead of cracking the mask in a one-hit kill, Tatsuki's leg slammed into the scaly body. The creature's muscular form resisted the blow, managing to avoid being crushed by Tatsuki's superhuman strength before she added one more surprise. Quite literally, the point of impact exploded in a short-lived inferno that sent the Hollow recoiling in blistering agony._

_It was common enough in the Soul Society for Soul Reapers to develop a slight elemental attunement to their spirit energy once they grew powerful enough. For most, this attunement "colored" their spiritual pressure to those sensing them. Rukia's own spiritual pressure always produced a phantom chill, as though caught in a ghostly snow flurry. Captain-General Yamamoto's released spiritual pressure carried the same savage heat his zanpakutou radiated, enough to cause heat exhaustion in those around him even if a person didn't simply drop unconscious from his raw power. Lack of control of this trait almost caused Captain Hitsugaya's adoptive grandmother to freeze to death before the boy joined the Soul Reapers to train it._

_This phenomenon applied to Tatsuki as well, though her training methods and her status as a living human with no Soul Reaper power had a different effect: she could completely convert any of her expelled spiritual pressure into her soul's natural element, in this case, fire. Once Tatsuki felt strong enough, she fully intended to experiment with possible applications of this trick. For now, she had to settle for being able to create fast-burning flashes that rarely lasted more than a second and only had an effective range of about a foot from her body at best._

_That didn't change the fact that the flames still could sear souls and do quite a bit of damage if used right. The Hollow's screams of pain were proof enough. In its panic, the Hollow's black markings moved on their own up and down its body before seeming to peel themselves off the twisted soul's body, each becoming a black snake just over a foot long. The little horde each opened their small mouths towards the martial artist just as she landed from her leap and fired thin slivers of black material like darts in a wide spread._

_Tatsuki could see that the cloud of tiny arrows was too wide to dodge and girded her body with energy to weather the assault, arms crossed and held up to protect her head. It proved unnecessary as a large triangle of golden light spun into place in front of her, the darts dropping harmless to the ground the moment they touched the fate-rejecting shield. "Thanks!" she barked to her friend while slipping into the most basic of her Hakuda stances._

_Glancing down, she saw the horde of snakes twist in place to face the second girl, as if just noticing her. And directly in front of Tatsuki's feet, the fallen darts had melted into black sludge, a puddle of which was slowly melting everything it touched into a similar consistency._

_The golden triangle split apart, the corners darting back towards the barrier maiden like miniature jets even as the larger Hollow glared hatefully at Tatsuki, leaving its small army of minions to deal with Orihime while it sped towards Tatsuki, this time with far more caution. Though Tatsuki wanted to call out to her friend and give her a warning, a quick glance showed that she was already moving. Orihime's hairpin flashed and a fourth small dart joined the formation of her little wing. Both shared a glance._

"_Trust me," Orihime's expression said._

_In an instant, Tatsuki moved, hands glowing with spirit energy while she darted behind her best friend, slamming her palms onto the ground and releasing her power as a wave of fire that practically incinerated a small part of the serpentine mob. Immediately, the remaining serpents backed off, cautious of the black-haired fighter's ability. Orihime had a plan, and damn if Tatsuki wasn't about to trust her experience right now!_

_The larger Hollow meanwhile, found its prey replaced by another human and didn't bother to follow Tatsuki any further. Mouth wide, it moved to swallow Orihime in a single gulp. Her reply was to invoke a new technique she had been practicing diligently ever since she came back from Hueco Mundo. She was not skilled enough with it to skip her chant, but she was still making great strides with it. "Tsubaki! Hinagiku! Baigon! Santen Shoushun I reject!" The familiar triangle formed, but this time it rocketed forward and slammed into the Hollow's head with the force of a speeding car. Like the others who fought in Hueco Mundo, Orihime had not been idle after only a few days recovering from her ordeal. Having only one offensive technique, one that was not powerful enough to do any damage to the arrancar, had cost her severely, forcing her to stand and watch while her friends nearly got themselves killed several times over without her being able to affect the outcome._

_Her solution was to try and devise ways to fight without having to kill, something Tsubaki had complained about her not having the will to do even if her opponent deserved it. It took a lot of effort, but the peaceful girl was able to develop a technique that allowed her to attack without cutting her opponent. She replaced her defensive shield's normal arrangement with the addition of Tsubaki in Lily's place, using her intrinsic ability to reject fate as a means of negating most methods of stopping the shield's advance as he pulled the array forward. With the momentum of a charging enemy negated by the shield's rejection properties, it had the effect of reducing the impact on a charging foe to less lethal levels than Tsubaki liked, while still doing damage and throwing them aside. It wasn't perfect, but it was a start for what Orihime hoped would prove more versatile responses to enemies._

_The sudden, violent blow of the Santen Shoushun sent the Hollow spinning, its mask cracked but not quite broken from its last-ditch attempt to dodge. The shield once more split into its three components that sped back to Orihime's side, ready to attack or defend in any direction. "Tatsuki!" she called out, which had the martial artist leaping back over from the still cautious snakes, many of which were attempting to slither away towards the larger Hollow. Seeing the damage already present on the Hollow's weak spot, Tatsuki sent one more surge of spirit energy into her legs, rocketing towards the Hollow at speeds Olympic athletes could only dream of before reeling her arm back. A small pinprick at her ankle was the only sign that one of the little serpents had managed to strike her with one of their black darts._

_With a sharp cry, Tatsuki's fist drilled into the stunned Hollow's mask, the entire thing collapsing on itself from the force she had poured behind her punch. There wasn't even any need to exert the extra mental effort necessary to ignite her spirit energy; this Hollow was done. With a final wail, it collapsed and started to break apart into spiritual dust, the numerous serpents it had spawned doing the same. For a moment she watched the display, excitement building up to replace the adrenaline the fight had pumped through her veins. She had done it! She beat a Hollow and didn't even get hurt-_

_It was then that the pain of her leg caught up with her, creeping through her ankle and up her calf, nearly making her collapse right there. Searing pain forced her to sit down and look carefully at the source. Glancing down, she noted that part of her right pant leg was gone like it had burned away by powerful acids. Underneath the hole, her lower leg was turning black and bits of flesh were starting to slough off. All Tatsuki could do was curse at the wound even as Orihime rushed to her side._

_There was no need to say anything to the kind-hearted healer as she called out her healing barrier except "Thanks."_

_Orihime beamed while her powers cleansed the wound of its unnatural rot, rejecting the wound's touch from ever happening to begin with. "You did great, Tatsuki-chan. Are you alright now?"_

_Flexing her leg experimentally, more for Orihime's benefit than her own, she nodded. Orihime's ability proved its convenience and Tatsuki was on her feet without even so much as a twitch to what had once been dead tissue. "Of course! We better get out of here, though. I don't think we were as quiet as we hoped."_

"_Right," Orihime agreed and the two ducked into the trees and popping out at the far south side of the park. The next few hours were reasonably quiet, with only two more Hollows showing themselves before they returned to the penthouse, both of which fell quickly to a single strike from Tatsuki. Compared to the cunning serpent, those that came after were simple brutes, and Tatsuki was only tired from the physical and spiritual exertion, taking nary a scratch in each encounter._

_Still, Tatsuki couldn't shake the feeling that she needed to get better, so that she would not need to be protected again._

* * *

"Impressive. It seems you are all exceptional individuals. Many from my era would have fallen to such spirits without good fortune and magic," Rider complimented. Oh, her time was filled with mighty heroes capable of impossible feats, but they were few and far between.

"I've still got a long ways to go, though. The others are all way stronger than me," Tatsuki admitted, shrugging and lounging back in her chair.

"I would not worry overmuch about catching up. Taking the swift route to power… _does not always end well_. Take care that your own desire for strength does not overcome the reason why you need it," Rider replied, her tone even and understanding.

Tatsuki's voice dropped into something slightly more melancholy at that. "Speaking from experience?"

Rider said nothing, but Tatsuki could tell that the Servant was doing exactly that.

"…I just can't figure you out, you know that?" Tatsuki laughed slightly. "You go from robot bodyguard to joker to teacher like that," she emphasized her point with a snap of her fingers. "I get your point, but it's hard when…" the girl suddenly trailed off with a shake of her head.

"'When?'" Rider prompted, listening intently.

"It's nothing. Just some bad memories. It's been a long day, and I need some sleep. If I wake up with you hanging over me or in my bed I swear to God I will hang you by your own hair!" Tatsuki barked at her roommate in an attempt to end the conversation. Truthfully, it actually unnerved her slightly: Rider was a great listener, never showing disinterest and letting her vent her frustrations without a word. Even if her blindfold kept her from making visible eye contact, her attentiveness was up there with Orihime and Chad. It took conscious effort not to just unload her uncertainties to this complete stranger.

"I guess that means I'll have to watch your pretty sleeping face before you can catch me," Rider replied lightly before straightening and moving to her own bed. "If you do decide to talk about your troubles, I will listen. Sleep well."

"…Like I'll be able to _now_," the girl groused while she pulled the covers up and flicked off the lamp.

* * *

Translations:

Mac an Tsolais: Gaelic for "Child of Light," though literally as "Son of Light"

mac soith: Gaelic for "son of a bitch"

Tapadh leat: Irish. Literally "speed be with you," used along the lines of "take care."

Skotopylae: distortion of the Greek words "Gate of Darkness"

Santen Shoushun: Japanese, "Three Gods Opposing Shield"


	20. Interlude End: Pasts Reflected in Steel

AN: Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, Happy New Year and all that, everyone! I come bearing gifts of words and character insight!

This chapter had its ups and downs, since I had to constantly edit, trim and rewrite to keep the second part of the chapter from being a mindless rehash of what everyone's already familiar with, which of course makes it one of my shortest chapters. That said, I think you will find more clues into what might come in the future for all of the characters presented if you look closely. Keep in mind that this part of the story is more about the characters rather than the fighting. Bear with me, we'll soon get back to what everyone's waiting for, I promise.

I'm going to likely rewrite my profile page to reflect a few ideas and set up another poll, so please watch for it in the coming weeks.

Also, as awesome as it is, F*CK YOU, SKYRIM, EATER OF TIME AND CONSUMER OF THOUGHTS!

_Interlude End: Pasts Reflected in Steel_

In his room, Shirou tossed fitfully in another attempt to get to sleep. He was exhausted, no question about that, and his eyes burned with the need for rest, but he could not get his mind to stop racing. Ever since he had lain down a deep sense of unease filled him, especially when his thoughts were dragged back to the battle on the rooftop. From what he saw Excalibur's radiant energy would no doubt have finished the battle with Rider perhaps even annihilating that black swordsman as well if it connected.

But it didn't. The figure who claimed to be Rider's Master had used a warped black reflection of Excalibur to stall the ray just long enough for Saber to give out from prana depletion. He was painfully aware that he was not providing any prana for Saber due to his faulty accidental summoning, so she had to be running on practically an empty tank at this point. She was stubbornly refusing to admit it, but she needed some way to regain her strength or…

Shirou forced himself to stop that train of thought. If he gave his mind any room to wander, it would invariably keep him up all night. There were a lot of dangers out there, and he needed to be at his peak to deal with them all.

But who was "Ichigo Kurosaki, Deputy Soul Reaper" and what did his presence mean for the Holy Grail War? For an entity (he was no ordinary human, he could see that much clearly) like that to exist and not be under the control of the Mages' Association or the Church threw Shirou off. Given how easily he could reveal the existence of magic, the spirit-swordsman should have several Enforcers chasing him by now. What could someone that powerful desire the Grail to accomplish? On top of that, why would he want to know Shirou's own wish? Given that Tohsaka had run into another warrior who had asked the very same question, was Kurosaki part some sort of new group trying to eliminate dangerous Masters and Servants, or were they after something else? …Aside from the Grail itself, obviously.

And for some irritating reason, he could not get the image of that black katana Kurosaki had carried out of his head. Part of his brain was stuck on trying to figure it out and coming up short, like a computer constantly getting an error message and trying again. All he could get from it was that whatever it was, that weapon was not crafted from mere metal. Considering the wielder was a ghostly entity, it made sense for it to be less tangible, but it certainly gleamed under the moon like real steel.

Between Berserker, Assassin, and now Rider and her sword-swinging Master, it was starting to look like the Tohsaka-Emiya alliance was surrounded by enemies with insurmountable advantages and were only kept at bay by the fact that fighting two Servants at the same time deterred the so-far individual Masters and Servant pairs. If someone found out that one of those Servants was almost incapacitated… it simply would not bode well for their continued survival. Something had to give in this stalemate, and Shirou's nerves were fraying at who would make the next big move and who would get caught up in the brutality.

"What should I do?" Shirou muttered to himself, forcing his eyes to close. "There has to be something I can do, something I can make to even the scales. I can't afford to lose here." In his mind's eye an image slowly came together, blurred and lacking details, but distinct enough to make out the important parts: a black and a white sword, each a magnificent creation, slowly rotated in a slow circle wide enough to allow him to see a third sword form, its straight blade so similar and yet so different from Excalibur.

Shirou idly wondered, his mind finally starting to cloud with the need for rest, which swords he should take. The twin curved swords, or the single shining blade? Which path would lead him to victory?

And finally, in the cool darkness of his room, Shirou Emiya dreamed.

* * *

_She was standing on a hill, regally overlooking the fields of her beloved homeland with her shining sword sheathed in its ornate scabbard. It was a small moment of rest before the next battle against the army before her. During this brief moment of respite none of the impending battle seemed to reach her vantage point. The serene, blue sky overhead only highlighted her pale skin and perpetually youthful features._

_Ever since her hands had taken that sword from the stone, Arturia Pendragon, king of the Britons, had led her people with all of her wisdom, courage, and skill while hiding the truth of her gender. Perhaps it was another magic woven into the sword, but ever since that day, she had stopped aging as well, assisting her ruse. Some saw this as the result of an unholy pact, but most saw it as a sign of divine intervention, the king's youth preserved as a holy miracle._

_Her skill at arms was transcendent, falling upon her people's foes like a dragon in human form and bringing victory after victory, always leading her army from the front._

_In peace, she______**-!~?~!-**_sought the next battle, never ceasing his wanderings. The miraculous way he could single-handedly turn the tide of a battle and then ignored any reward had people whispering behind his back. After all, there was no such thing as someone who only fought to help protect people. Such heroes cannot exist in this cynical world. All people want something in exchange their involvement. "He _**has**__ to have an ulterior motive," they whispered when they thought him unaware._

_But he didn't. The warrior had long embraced the ideal of saving others, and had no need for reward aside from seeing families reunited and preventing death. He never wanted to see anyone crying around him. It was painful knowing that this world could not simply accept that, but he soldiered on, fighting the good fight regardless of national borders, race or politics._

_And yet, there were those he couldn't____**-!~?~!-**_save without sacrifice. In times of greatest danger, she had to order the dismantling of an entire village in order to have enough supplies for another battle. It was always a painful decision, but she forced herself to make it with the same composure and surety a king needed. There was no place for weakness or doubt in the life of a king.

"_The king is inhuman," some would whisper, "Our king does not understand human emotions."_

_In order to become a perfect king, she had to seal away her emotions and paid the price in the form of unease from her subjects. It was only natural. It was a price she was willing to pay to change her homeland from its war-torn state into the beautiful, peaceful country she knew it could be._

_The next battle loomed just over the next hill, and Arturia had every intention of winning it, even if she had to______**-!~?~!-**__kill one to save ten, kill ten to save a hundred, or kill a hundred to save a thousand. It hurt, but it was a necessary thing that his father had tried to tell him when he first passed on this legacy._

_Worse for his reputation, he could not afford to stay in one spot for long. His enemies were numerous, and he had no illusions about his chances against them all while protecting the innocent lives around him. Thus, his story was one of a mysterious soldier who arrived, killed the enemy to end the battle occurring near him, and then disappearing like some vengeful ghost or a battle-hungry madman._

_His trek across the open fields of this country led him closer and closer to the chaos of a civil dispute gone wrong. The sounds of______**-!~?~!-**_armed warriors roaring their battle cries while they charged towards the king's forces thundered in her ears. With her trusted Knights of the Round arrayed behind her and a mass of men-at-arms forming into tight ranks to meet the charge, there was no force that would defeat her. She did not flinch as she unsheathed her_____**-!-?-!-**_blades materialized in his hands, one a pitch-black shadow of steel, its partner a single ray of light in his opposite hand.

_With eyes sharper than a hawk's, he deftly read the path of his foes' weapons and evaded the incoming volley sharply before__________**-!~?~!-**__her golden sword slammed into the enemy's axe, shearing through the head without slowing. She survived countless battles__ never losing sight of that____________**-!~?~!-**_ever-distant utopia___________**-!~?~!-**_even as his ideal betrayed him time and time again.

_Two blades__________**-!~?~!-**_of unmatched glory raised in search of an impossible dream.

_Two warriors of peerless artistry____________**-!~?~!-**_pursuing an impossible ideal.

_And yet she__ met__________**-!~?~!-**_his end___________**-!~?~!-**_on a hill of swords.

* * *

When Shirou awoke, it felt like his consciousness was trying to exist in two places at once. His head ached like a vice was squeezing his temples, and his hands were shaking. The disjointed, overlapping memories of Saber and… who was that other swordsman? The thoughts in the wanderer's mind turned his stomach…

_Kill one to save ten, ten to save a hundred, a hundred to save a thousand…_

Even if they were the antithesis of his ideal to save everyone, Shirou could not help but feel the cold ring of truth behind them. And Saber… why did she have to bear the burden of kingship so totally? Who could _she_ turn to when she needed it? Didn't anyone have the ability to help her rule without having to throw aside so much of herself? Were they all so stupid in that era? Just thinking about it made Shirou want to punch something.

Shirou silently turned to face the window. Judging by the faint trace of light starting to filter through the drapes, it was just before sunrise. Slowly and carefully so as not to aggravate the pounding in his head, he sat up and stretched. Headache or no, he had a long day waiting for him, and the Holy Grail War wouldn't halt just because a Master was not feeling well.

* * *

The sideways city expanded before Rider, tinted red by the barrier she had grown used to being behind when she arrived at this strange place. Her solemn guide was already extending shadowy tendrils to pry open a hole in the pane of red light for him to pass through. For some reason the process looked smoother, as if the resistance had lessened compared to the last time. Before, it took a tremendous amount of this black-clad being's effort and energy to pry the barrier open. This time the entity looked to barely exert himself when he ripped past whatever field normally isolated her from this being's world. The unshaven entity stepped into her sanctuary and inclined his head respectfully. "_I see you have finally saw fit to confide in my partner, Rider,_" he stated without preamble, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

Rider nodded stiffly and tensed, the taller entity still filling the air with his heavy presence, though it was not a malicious one. More importantly… "How do you know what goes on behind closed doors and for that matter, you still have not revealed your own name."

Unlike the last few nights, this time the figure did smile: a slight curve that conveyed a mix of amusement and understanding. "_As you have extended your trust towards Ichigo, I shall do the same. I am Zangetsu._"

"Zan…getsu?" The name tickled Rider's memory, a passing mention given early in Ichigo's introduction to the Grail War. It clicked when she recalled exactly where that name was mentioned before:

_Ichigo smirked. "Guess that makes Zangetsu an A-rank."_

Such a simple reference might have flown over the heads of the less observant, but that was the night Ichigo had proven that he was personally ready to engage Heroic Spirits in combat by cutting a swath through the nearly indestructible Servant Berserker. "You are… Ichigo's zanpakutou?" It wasn't too surprising, really: if the sword was truly a sentient expression of a Soul Reaper's power, then it made sense that it would have some means of communication with their wielders, especially in some kind of neutral realm like this one. It would be… awkward if a Soul Reaper had to stare at a motionless, talking sword when it was communicating.

"_Correct,"_ Zangetsu affirmed."_Moreover, I am pleased your bond with Ichigo permits you to hear my name so readily. A zanpakutou's wielder must bond with their weapon before they may hear its name and unlock its power. It appears that the depth of your contract extends even that far. Though perhaps you having heard it from my partner before had an effect,_" he mused, turning his gaze outward towards the skyline.

"In the end that point really does not matter, does it? What matters is that I appear to be discussing my Master's past with the spirit inhabiting his sword," Rider said just a touch dryly.

Zangetsu's slight smile returned, amusement soon giving way to pride. "_Correct. You have already witnessed the pinnacle of a zanpakutou's power when you saw our Bankai. I wish to show you the moment this power was put to the test; why we do not fear even the might of Excalibur and King Arthur. Our proudest moment atop Sokyoku Hill._" Coming from the normally solemn and almost monotone spirit, the verbose description drew Rider's undivided attention, and the world shifted beneath her feet.

What greeted her was a perfect battlefield for two swordsmen: a wide, open field of hard-packed earth atop a massive hill or small mountain. A forest expanded beyond the hill's abrupt edge on one side, and in the other direction a vast walled city. At the far edge of the cliff facing the forest, a massive platform stood solemnly, two towering pillars of wood piercing the sky. A single wood beam must have connected the two near the top of them at some point, but now a breach about twenty feet wide rimmed by scorched splinters marred the pure image.

Beside Rider, the shadowy sword-spirit pointed towards the platform. "_The scaffold of the Sokyoku. It is a place of execution where the condemned are hung to be struck down by a blade capable of incinerating a soul down to absolute nothingness. It was here where they hung an innocent woman, and where Ichigo shattered another of the Soul Society's traditions in favor of his ideals._"

"Who did he save?" Rider asked.

"_Rukia Kuchiki._" Zangetsu then pointed towards the only two figures in the field standing almost thirty feet apart just beyond the execution stand. Between the two figures, the ground was torn apart from a series of monstrous impacts. One was quite obviously Ichigo, his spiky orange hair an easy identifier. His body from the neck down was wrapped in bandages and the left side of his _uwagi_ was missing, though. The simple cleaver blade that was apparently one and the same as the shadowy warrior beside Rider rested on his shoulder.

His opponent was a swordsman dressed in a Soul Reaper _shihakushou_ with the addition of a long white sleeveless coat, a _haori_ that marked his rank trimmed by black diamonds on the lower hem. His eyes were the color of cold steel, and his silky black hair was held in an elegant, if unusual style by three tubes on top of his head and two on the right side. In his hand was a simply designed but elegant katana with a pale hilt wrap and a golden, rectangular _tsuba._ "_That is_ _Byakuya Kuchiki. Captain of Squad Six and adoptive brother to Rukia Kuchiki._"

"Rukia's brother? Why are they fighting, then? Should they not be protecting her?"

Zangetsu looked out towards the Captain with an unreadable expression for a moment before nodding. "_Ideally. Unfortunately, he was caught between an oath to his wife on her deathbed to do just that, and an oath to his ancestors to uphold the law at all times. He chose the latter._"

That alone set the nobleman several pegs down in Rider's opinion. Up until her sanity was utterly gone, she had fought with everything she had for Stheno and Euryale. If given the choice between regaining her divinity as a true goddess or continuing to protect her sisters, she would choose protecting her family every time. For someone to throw away that bond in the name of duty almost had her teeth grinding behind her stoic expression.

When Zangetsu lowered his arm, the scene began to play with clarity greater than any of the memories Rider had watched so far. This event was so vivid it was as if she were a part of the battle herself. Ichigo's voice called out to his opponent sharply: _"I'm gonna hit you with everything I've got. I'm gonna crush everything you throw at me._

"_Execute your own sister?"_ he continued. _"That's twisted. I don't give a crap about your sense of duty or your honor. I won't let you say that to Rukia ever again._ _"Show me your Bankai so I can crush it. Then I'm going to make you BEG Rukia for forgiveness,"_ he finished sharply, lowering Zangetsu to point towards Byakuya in a universally recognized challenge.

Rider listened intently to Byakuya's dispassionate reply, denouncing the need for his greatest technique even as he lifted the blade before his face. _"No matter what you say, my decision will not change… and neither will our fates."_ The man was fatalistic, almost morose in his words, subtly conveying how hopeless he felt the situation was for Ichigo. _"Bankai? Do not be absurd. I will not need to use my Bankai against you for at least another thousand years."_

In a voice bearing both nobility and a grave finality, the man invoked his sword's power. _"Scatter… Senbonzakura."_ Then the blade of his sword did exactly that. From the tip all the way to the hilt, the blade dissolved into a thousand slivers, each the shape of a cherry blossom petal. Despite the flowery motif, the way the blades whirled through the air on a nonexistent wind reminded Rider of a man alone in a graveyard. The thousand cherry blossoms swirled towards Ichigo in a deceptively delicate motion.

Ichigo's response to the display was to bring his sword down in a hammer swing, releasing a searing blue Getsuga Tenshou as an advancing blade of blue light that swallowed every last petal and barely grazed Byakuya's arm in the span of an eye blink. The noble's stoic demeanor barely shifted, though his eyes did widen at the surge of raw power. Shockingly, Ichigo saw fit to explain the nature of his revealed power to his opponent. In the Holy Grail War, it was best to never reveal anything to your opponents unless they were all dying at your feet and no one was around to remember it. Once more, he demanded his foe reveal his greatest power.

It seemed that the last display was enough to convince the captain, and Byakuya released his sword point-first and let it sink into the ground as though the earth was water._ "Bankai." _With this one word, the entire battlefield warped for an instant, all features of the battlefield washing away into a featureless dark void. Twin rows of towering sword blades, each more than double the height of their master rose from the ground, the steel forest stretching out to infinity behind him. _"Senbonzakura Kageyoshi."_ Just like his sealed blade, every single sword Byakuya had summoned dissolved into millions upon millions of blades.

It was almost comparable to a Noble Phantasm. This technique, though incapable of bending the laws of the world like the legendary treasures of the Heroic Spirits, was capable of sheer overwhelming versatility in both attack and defense. With no need to hide one's identity, the Soul Reaper was free to release the weapon in answer to whomever he chose, as well.

Rider watched her Master fight fiercely before the regal and unmoving captain trapped Ichigo in a rain of blades. But even as blood ran in streams up and down Ichigo's frame, his confidence never faltered. In fact, the teenager only seemed more incensed and excited with the situation_._

Zangetsu's deep voice narrating the scene proved incredibly jarring and brought Rider back to the "present," as it were. "_The Bankai is the greatest level of mastery for a zanpakutou and their partner. For someone like Byakuya, who has lived for centuries and spent decades honing his skills, the very _concept _of one so young and brash attaining that pinnacle in a matter of weeks was an insult almost as great as spitting on his face while defacing his ancestor's graves,_" he explained. "_And yet, despite being nearly killed twice, Ichigo and I faced him and Senbonzakura without hesitation, growing stronger after each encounter._"

"_Bankai!"_

The Servant could not keep a very small, vindictive smile off of her face when her Master invoked the very same command as his opponent, nearly ripping the plain in two from his released power before it coiled into a tornado. The sky was filled with stones and finer dust that funneled just over where Ichigo had released his full power. That, and the sheer look of forcibly subdued horror and shock the captain wore was quite amusing. With a keening note and the most minute pulse of its energy, the sword in Ichigo's hand stilled the air.

Compared to Byakuya's seemingly infinite blades, the conversion of Ichigo's heavy cleaver into the night-black katana and the relatively simple change to a long coat was not as grand, but the power he wielded through the sword was plainly evident.

Ichigo's voice cut through the air as he invoked his sword's true name for the first time. _"Tensa Zangetsu."_

Despite the insult having a Bankai was, it appeared the form it took did not impress Byakuya at all. The unreality before him caused his placid voice to gain a dark undertone. _"It seems you enjoy treading on things we hold sacred. Then I shall cut you down. You will pay the price for insulting our honor!"_ With those words, the swirling eddy of blades rose up in a titanic wave able to reduce stone to powder.

The main thing that changed was Ichigo's speed. It was completely on another level from his previous form, completely exceeding Byakuya's ability to follow or even register his movements when the tide of blades rose to shred the young swordsman. His charge would end the battle before Byakuya would even perceive the movement, Ichigo's blade already poised to skewer his opponent's throat…

And then, to Rider's astonishment, he stopped with his sword just shy of breaking the nobleman's skin.

Byakuya never even saw him approach, given the moment it took for his eyes to move to Ichigo and widen in astonishment. _"Your 'honor,'" _Ichigo spat,_ "demands that you kill Rukia. If that's the case, then stepping on your honor was the reason I achieved Bankai!"_ he declared, stepping back with his blade still pointed at his opponent.

Both Rider and Byakuya mirrored each other in their simple response to the emphatic challenge. _"Why did you withdraw your blade from my throat?"_

"Why indeed?" Rider could easily accept that Ichigo wished to fight his opponents with his full strength and expected the same of his enemies. It was not an uncommon stance with knights and samurai. However, it was also universal that if your opponent did not take you seriously, you made them pay for their mistake by striking a finishing blow the moment the opportunity presented itself. "Zangetsu, perhaps you could explain something to me," she stated calmly, and the memory froze; the dust kicked up by Ichigo and Byakuya's blades coming to a halt completely. The quiet sword-spirit did not say anything, but he was listening. "What did Ichigo hope to gain here? If this nobleman was his enemy, why did he not kill him here, while his opponent was unable to react in time?"

Zangetsu took a moment to word his response, understanding Rider's philosophy in combat even if he could not agree with it. "_There was more to this battle than life or death. This was a battle of pride. Ichigo wished to do more than win a contest of arms. He needed to so completely crush Byakuya and everything that he was representing that attempting another act against Rukia here would never enter his mind again. For that, he tried to force Byakuya to use as many of his abilities as he could, summarily crush them, and allow him to live to accept the totality of his defeat. He had no desire to kill Rukia's family if possible._"

"A dangerous choice," Rider commented. Though Zangetsu saw it as pride and well-founded confidence in his partnership with his wielder that only served to increase their strength, Rider saw the explanation as an arrogant stance as bad as Byakuya's dismissive attitude. How could Ichigo be so sure he was strong enough to face the captain's full ability? Even if he had no drive to kill Byakuya, severing an arm in that first charge would do quite a bit towards ending the battle favorably.

It was the biggest difference separating Rider and Ichigo despite their compatibility as Master and Servant. Ichigo let his honor dictate the terms of his battles. Fairness, matching his opponent blow for blow and mercy to the defeated were his hallmarks even in the face of a vastly superior foe. Rider killed in whatever method ensured the quickest and most permanent solution to a threat. If that meant slipping a dagger between the ribs from behind or an ambush from the shadows, she would do so without hesitation or remorse. She could be quite sadistic when the mood struck her, but fighting a Servant or a similarly powerful foe was not a time for such an indulgence. This nobleman appeared to have the power necessary to force a serious fight.

Judging by Byakuya's response to Ichigo's mercy, he thought the same thing. _"You will regret not slitting my throat when you had the chance. You only get one miracle per battle. There will be no second chances, boy!"_

The battle resumed, suddenly far faster and much more aggressive than the case of one-upsmanship it had been before. To Rider, it looked like Byakuya was more than a full step behind her Master, the seemingly automatic reactions of his many blades only just fast enough to stop the black sword from cutting him in half at a few points. Wherever Byakuya looked, Ichigo had already moved to the side, just barely allowing the nobleman to see the flicker of motion from the corner of his eyes. Rider could easily surmise that the captain was chasing shadows: his eyes were simply unable to keep up with Ichigo's movements. To him, it probably looked like he was surrounded by copies of his opponent darting all across his field of vision wherever Ichigo changed direction.

Rider herself could mostly keep up with the black streak that zigzagged across the field, though her opinion of the display was quite different from Byakuya's wary stance. It was quite impressive to watch, but Rider would never use the trick herself even though it was within her power to imitate. To her, dancing around an opponent who was unable to catch you was a waste, especially with the already displayed gap in reaction time. So many chances for a finishing strike were being wasted in only a few seconds. At this point in his career, Ichigo was still naïve, Rider concluded.

"_What's wrong? Can't keep up?"_ the orange-haired substitute Soul Reaper taunted. _"I can still go a bit faster."_

Medusa was not summoned as one of the three Knight Classes nor was she compatible with them. Her tactics in combat were based on the concept of lethal precision combined with overwhelming speed rather than being gifted with overwhelmingly inhuman levels of skill like the Lancer or the Saber. More importantly, Medusa was never a true warrior in any sense, but a monster who brought ruin to her enemies with savagery, her petrifying gaze, and overwhelming speed. She was thus not capable of analyzing the battle before her with the same kind of insight those Servants might, particularly in comparison to one with the Eye of the Mind skill. That said, in spite of Ichigo's taunts, even she could see something was off the longer the fight went on.

Even if using his hands to guide the waves upon waves of petal-shaped blades doubled their speed and precision, Byakuya's own inability to keep up with Ichigo should have rendered that less effective than it was proving. It was only when Ichigo was forced to deflect every single one of the encroaching blades after being driven into the air that it clicked for Rider:

Ichigo was slowing down. It was a slow process, but Rider could definitely see it. He was still much faster than Byakuya, but the gap between them was closing. It had already narrowed enough for Byakuya to spin on his heel and barely redirect a lethal thrust away from his body at the cost of slashing open his palm. Byakuya responded to the humiliation by surrounding them both in a circle fifty feet wide made of his sea of blades, compressing them together all around them in a funeral procession of vertical swords, each a faintly glowing copy of the sealed blade Byakuya had started the battle with. It was the final acknowledgement: the last level of his mastery over Senbonzakura. _"Do not fear; this funeral column of a thousand blades will not strike you all at once. Senkei is only shown to those whom I intend to kill with my own hands,"_ he said, and Ichigo's expression shifted from wide-eyed shock back to that same self-confident smirk.

"_I feel special,"_ he responded dryly.

This final stage of battle between the Soul Reapers would not have looked out of place between Servants in the Holy Grail War. Both fighters moved with incredible speed, their strikes powerful and their auras nearly stifling the air in an unseen haze. Even as Byakuya revealed more and more of his skills and powers, Ichigo stuck with his straightforward style and still matched the Captain's experience with raw talent, instinct and overwhelming speed. Byakuya held nothing back, his formerly passive expression finally revealing the fierceness that matched the intensity of his attacks. Ichigo's speed continued to dwindle, and the captain's greater experience slowly wore down the younger man.

As Rider had predicted, eventually Ichigo lost his speed advantage completely, leaving him paralyzed after Byakuya's lightning spell blew a small searing hole clear through Ichigo's right shoulder. For a moment it looked as though Ichigo was going to die, and Rider had to suppress an urge to interfere, even if she knew intellectually that this event had already happened.

The once more calm and composed captain brought his blade down to execute the helpless teen when something… shifted in the air. A dark, heavy presence that was at once completely alien coming from Ichigo, yet hauntingly familiar to Medusa: a madness fueled almost entirely by bloodlust and carrying fiendish strength had manifested from Ichigo's soul. It almost filled the entire memory, suffocating the air with the desire to _**kill**_. The nobleman did not notice until his razor-edged sword was caught by the younger swordsman's bare hand, the spiritual weapon barely biting through the skin of his palm.

When Ichigo spoke next, there was a strange distortion to his words, as though his voice was echoing through a wall of water. _**"Idiot… I told you that I can't let you die."**_ His voice was suddenly higher, more manic, struggling with itself to hold back a laugh.

It only took a second for the wide-eyed captain to shake off his shock and ask, "Who are you?"

"_**Who am I? You really want to know?" **_the voice asked before lifting his head to be seen by all. The facial features were the same, but Ichigo's confident smirk was stretched into a savage, almost rigid grin. Over a quarter of his face was obscured by a plate of bone streaked in three blood red stripes while the hole for his eye was illuminated from within by a slit of gold: a partial Hollow's mask. His other eye was still exposed, but it had changed… his sclera had turned blacker than pitch, and his iris had lost all color, becoming nothing more than a white ring against a black sea. _**"I HAVE no name."**_

Rider turned sharply towards Zangetsu, a demand for answers already forming on her lips when she realized that her guide was no longer even looking at the memory, his head cocked slightly to listen for something. Before she could call him, she heard it too: that same crazed, bloodthirsty voice that was coming out of Ichigo's mouth echoing from all sides.

"**Get out,**" it hissed. "**Get out, shut up, shut up, SHUT UP! GET OUT OF MY HEAD! I don't answer to you, so stop CALLING me!**"

Her train of thought only partially derailed, the former gorgon called to her guide without a trace of emotion. "Zangetsu-"

The spirit spoke suddenly, his voice carrying an ominous undertone. "_He has been like this since the first time Ichigo drew his sword in Fuyuki. It has been growing harder to reach him with each passing day. Even this memory, one he is strongly drawn to, is barely enough to catch his attention before he retreats._"

Completely oblivious to the conversation, the distorted voice screamed out, "**SHUT UP! I don't want to hear you! I'll just go deeper where you can't reach me! I won't be your plaything! I am NO ONE'S toy!**" The words came from every direction, sometimes sounding as if it was behind Rider, other times shouting as if his back was to them and standing a distance away. Even when it sounded like the voice was between her and Zangetsu, she could see nothing.

"Who is that?" Rider asked warily, her knives manifesting (interesting; she wasn't sure she had access to any of her powers and weapons in this dreamscape) in her grip. "Is it related to the Hollow mask forming on Ichigo?"

"**I won't let you claim me! Get OUT!**"

Zangetsu did not reply for a time, listening to the voice fade away, descending further and further into the depths of the sideways city of Ichigo's soul to hide. He had hoped that this memory and Rider's presence would have given the nameless Hollow something to focus on other than whatever plagued his every thought. So long as he did not harm Rider, Zangetsu was even willing to allow the Hollow to reveal himself completely; there was a chance that Rider would recognize what affected Ichigo's killer instinct incarnate and figure out a way to reverse it. Of course, there was the possibility that the black-eyed killer would see Rider and identify her as the cause, but it seemed unlikely given the Hollow's lack of reaction to Rider's presence in this world over the last few nights.

The calm sword spirit had enjoyed the feeling of balance and harmony between himself, the Hollow and Ichigo that they had reached before facing Aizen. That balance was now shaken to its foundations and he was not about to let it fall apart after they had managed to finally attain that level of understanding. He noted that the battlefield, still locked in that mad instant when the Hollow first usurped control of Ichigo's body, was starting to fade back into the city without some of his focus to maintain the memory. It was just as well; it would be dawn soon back in the real world.

Finally, he answered. "_Instinct. He is Ichigo's instinct, still restrained and focused. Separate and distinct from himself, but still a fundamental aspect of who Ichigo is._"

The way Zangetsu defined the voice served as a revelation to Rider. "How many ways was Ichigo's soul been split since he took up the sword?" Apparently the process of becoming a Soul Reaper carried its own price, just not one readily visible to the outside world.

"_You misunderstand. A zanpakutou is forged from the user's soul, but it is not a splitting into lesser pieces. Perhaps another time I will be able to give you a clearer answer._" Immediately the world began to fall away, receding further into the darkness that always preceded her return to consciousness.

Rider tried to resist, throwing the force of her will to regain a hold on the sword-spirit's sideways world. "Zangetsu!" It was not enough. The city continued to fade into darkness.

The last words she heard from her guide were: "_Guard my partner well, Rider. If this imbalance continues to worsen, I cannot foresee Ichigo's survival against the Servants or whatever else is out there should he find himself alone in battle._"

Rider's frustration was carefully hidden from her face when her eyes opened behind the Breaker Gorgon, once more in her hotel room. As insightful into Ichigo's character the scene Zangetsu had started showing her was, it left her with too many important, personal questions that would have too much impact on her partnership with her Master to leave unaddressed.

If she was right, Ichigo might be teetering dangerously close to falling into the same raging, monstrous state that Medusa had experienced.

* * *

With few exceptions (usually only after an event that had altered his fate completely) Ichigo was not one to have anything like a lucid dream. Even his recent dreams were always outside his control, leaving him to simply ride along with strange events and places that were both magnificent and horrid. Their exact meaning eluded him, but he had a gut feeling that Rider was behind it, whether intentionally or not.

So naturally it was a bit of a shock when he was rocketing through the air over an open sea in total control of his actions. "What the-?" he almost yelped while the water raced below him. He was personally standing still, but the world around him sped by faster than anything short of a Shunpo… or a Servant, he amended. He felt no wind though, and his movement was unimpeded despite the speed he was moving through the air. If he had to compare it to something, it was like being caught in a holographic projection of a film. "Okay, calm down, you're just dreaming. Just sit back and enjoy the show," he told himself, willing the tension from his "body."

He then heard what sounded like flapping wings and turned, realizing he was hovering alongside a young man probably only a few years older than himself. Whoever he was, he was bedecked for war: in one hand, a shield inset with a large mirror reflected the sea around them (though devoid of Ichigo's own reflection) and the other was tightly gripping a long polearm that ended in a sickle-like blade. His armor looked to be made of hardened black leather trimmed with gold or perhaps brass and his helmet was a solid golden-colored bullet-like thing with only the narrowest of Y-shaped slits to expose his eyes and face. His legs were covered with white short leggings and knee-length boots that matched his armor. Overall, he looked like a lone soldier who had earned honor after honor on the battlefield.

The two-foot long white wings emerging from the ankles of his boots were certainly eye-catching, though. From the look of it, their rapid flapping was what allowed the armored soldier to shoot through the air so easily.

The figure's gaze was focused resolutely on the horizon, a mound of black rock shrouded in blood-colored mist looming closer and closer. It took a moment, but Ichigo finally collected himself enough to move. Stepping carefully, half-expecting to drop into the sea the moment he tried to interact with the world around him, he stepped in front of the soldier. "Hey," he called, making sure to raise his voice over the rushing winds.

He wasn't terribly surprised when the warrior didn't answer, his eyes staring right through him. In an attempt to stave off boredom, Ichigo turned and watched the approaching red haze and snorted. "Nice place. Must be quite the tourist hotspot."

The advance of both soldier and Soul Reaper halted at the edge of the haze, which formed an unnaturally perfect dome over the rocky isle. Ichigo nearly jumped when the thus far silent soldier spoke, his tone laden with anticipation. _"The Shapeless Isle, home to those banished by the gods. Certainly a grim enough place for such an exile," _he said, his smirk obvious even through his largely enclosing helm. Ichigo's frown deepened when the figure crossed into the mist, seeming to leave much of his former determination and bravado. Ichigo did not need to cross blades with the man to know that whatever the mist was, it had shaken the man's spirit deeply.

Somewhat fascinated by the 3-D film playing around him but still rather bored, Ichigo glanced at the soldier and muttered "Care to explain?"

To his mild amusement, he got an answer. _"This is… the Blood Fort Andromeda? The Outer-Seal, Blood Temple?"_ The man shivered uneasily before checking himself over, as if expecting the field to affect him in some way. It was amazing how quickly the formerly eager warrior had lost all of his courage. His mumbled prayers of thanks for remaining unharmed were largely inaudible, but he managed to draw up the will to move forward and down onto the rocks below. Adjusting his grip on the long-handled sickle, he slowly crept forward with the mirrored shield before him, sweeping his attention all around in anticipation of a dangerous foe.

For his part, Ichigo stepped along the rocks carefully, looking for some kind of edge or range to the film, but found himself perturbed that, even though he could not be seen or heard, he was feeling the rocks under his feet, and the worn stones beneath him made his steps uneven. Strangely, as though only to confirm the fact he was not truly a part of the scene and to annoy him, he could not dislodge even the smallest loose pebble, which was murder on his balance. Worse was the smell. The air of the entire island stank with an overpoweringly sweet scent that would have surely given Ichigo a headache if he was physically present.

It didn't occur to him that scents were not things typically experienced in dreams.

He was tempted to simply wander off and let the dream play without him when he stumbled into a bizarre field of broken columns and strange statuary. The marble tiles were lined with stone statues of soldiers and warriors of all stripes, every last one looking upwards with expressions ranging from defiant sneers to absolute despair and horror. They were shockingly lifelike and detailed so carefully and so precisely that each one must have taken months if not years to complete, and there were no less than thirty of them.

"_Gods above… what am I about to face?"_ came a shaky voice, prompting Ichigo to turn around to face the same warrior he had parted from. With his shield slung slightly off his arm and his sickle resting in the crook of his other arm, he was holding a broken statue's head with a look of wide-eyed horror clear on his face.

"I dunno. Statues?" Ichigo snorted. His amusement was cut short when he heard a long screeching wail from above his heads. It was a tormented sound, like a woman screaming in anguish mixed with a metallic scratching. Both warriors looked straight up, Ichigo reaching reflexively for a sword that wasn't there, and the golden-helmed man raising his shield in front of him and forcing his terror-wracked gaze towards the sound's source.

At the highest point in the red-tinted dome where the sun would normally shine, a single staring eye glared balefully at all below, the red mist seeping from the edges of the great lens. It was not the source of the wailing, but standing beneath such a massive, unnatural feature had the mystery warrior trembling with barely restrained terror and Ichigo feeling suddenly far less amused. Dream or not, he was officially disturbed.

Swallowing a lump in his throat, the young man took a deep breath and managed to let out a bellow of challenge. _"M-MEDUSA OF THE GORGONS, I, PERSEUS, SON OF ZEUS CALL YOU OUT! FACE ME SO THAT I MAY END YOUR WRETCHED EXILE!" _

With such a loud declaration of intent drilling through his ears, Ichigo's gaze tore away from the great bloody eye and back towards the now-identified Perseus. "Perseus? _You're_ the one who killed Medusa!" he gaped, horrified and fiercely wishing he had more influence in the dream. The story of Medusa's life filled him with a strong sympathy for the gorgon, and now he was apparently stuck watching his mind's interpretation of her last day.

Another wail pulled Ichigo's attention back to the sky, and his mind suddenly locked up.

Between the eye and the two warriors, a glowing red circle, a massive imitation of the same spidery circle that Rider had appeared from during her summoning, seared the air before a massive… THING dropped into existence from it. Purple tendrils whirled wildly in every direction around the THING's body, obscuring every detail from sight even as the tendrils shattered the statues and ripped furrows several feet wide in the black rocks beneath them.

Ichigo could not comprehend what he was looking at. It was a monster, a giant that radiated greater power and malice than a Menos Grande, or even most arrancar. Everything about it screamed that to face it was to die a meaningless death. It consumed his focus, its writhing tendrils almost hypnotic despite their frenetic motion. Almost against his will, he looked higher and higher up the dark-skinned entity to meet its murderous gaze.

And at the top of its frame where its head would be and framed by long tendrils like clumps of hair, a single lavender eye with a square pupil blazed with an evil red light.

Ichigo awoke just as he locked eyes with the monstrous figure, his suddenly upright body shaking against his will. Cold sweat had just begun pouring from him, changing the shakes into more normal shivers from the abrupt change in temperature. His breath came in sharp pants, and his mind refused to let him forget the dream, especially not that lavender eye glaring with so much undirected HATE. The fear he felt in that dream could not natural, but it clawed at him just as strongly. It felt like he was forced to feel fear of the raging Medusa regardless of why or his own courage. His instincts and experience told him that what he saw was no mere dream, though he could not figure out what else it might have been. A vision? A memory?

Taking a moment to run a cold, clammy hand over his eyes, Ichigo forced himself to calm down and think. He had known that Medusa had spent her later life wracked by rage, but he had no way of knowing just how much that emotion had warped her. As much as he preferred to let the beautiful Servant open up at her own pace, he had to know more about that event and what it all meant:

The Blood-Fort Andromeda.

Perseus.

The true nature of Medusa's monstrous form.

A goodly part of him was filled with utter contempt for the Greek gods for driving her to that fate. Another part was trying to convince him not to ask Rider anything at all. She had her reasons to keep things from him, and he understood better than most the importance of keeping secrets until the time was right. He had to know, though. Too much was at stake and events were happening too quickly for him to let Rider take her time with him… and probably vice-versa.

He could tell that today was going to be a bad day, and he hadn't even gotten out of bed yet.


	21. Witch Hunt Part I: Dawn

AN: HA! I told you all I'd never give up on this fic! But I'm still at it, even in the face of work, trying to get a better job, Writer's Block of epic proportions and the waxing and waning of my other interests.

Now this may seem like a short chapter after my impromptu break/disappearance, but this is only half of what I've done. In four days (Friday) from this initial posting, I'll post the next chapter (and yes, it's already done, edited and ready to go). I just want everyone to have a chance to read it and not overwhelm the new readers.

Once again, thank you Murder of Crows for your help. Your tireless research and willingness to put up with my stubborn streak is much, much appreciated. And a hearty thanks to everyone who has taken the time to read, review and favorite this ridiculously long epic I call my first fanfic attempt! You guys all rock!

_Witch Hunt Part I: Dawn_

Shirou picked his way through his domain of culinary alchemy: the Emiya kitchen, carefully selecting the seasonings and vegetables for the morning's soup. He wanted something filling, tasty, yet easy on the stomach for Sakura. He hoped his little sister figure was feeling better. A hearty soup would appeal to everyone this time of year.

He had just started washing the vegetables when a zombie lurched into the kitchen, its dead eyes locked on the refrigerator. Its shuffling gait ground to a halt there and then pulled out a carton of milk. Shaking the carton once in its hand, the zombie normally known as Rin Tohsaka guzzled the remnants without even having the presence of mind to pour it into a glass first.

The image of Miss Perfect at Homurabara acting so… inelegant made Shirou wonder not for the first time if laughing or crying would fit the situation better, especially given just how many poor souls were so thoroughly deceived by her act at school. Seeing her true self over the last few days shattered more illusions than the Holy Grail War did. "You feeling alright?" he asked, managing to sound simply concerned and not highly, _highly_ amused by the sight.

Apparently the milk was enough to wash away the worst of the cobwebs and Tohsaka replied with most of her higher brain functions working, even if she sounded notably more gruff than normal. "Don't worry about it. I'm usually like this in the morning until I wash my face."

"If you say so. Why don't you do that while I work on breakfast?"

"Sounds good," Rin agreed with a jaw-cracking yawn. She passed Saber on the way out towards the nearest bathroom, and the petite king set herself into a cushion at the dining room table.

"Good morning, Shirou," she said with all of her normal grace. To Saber, the atmosphere of good food amidst good company was one of the simple and great pleasures of life. "Did you sleep well?"

An image of a hill of swords with two warriors trading places at the top passed through Shirou's mind for only a second, but he pushed it down. A Servant's past wasn't something to bring up first thing in the morning, especially when there was work to be done right away. "Yes, thank you, Saber. What about you?"

"I slept well," she lied. Her ability as a Servant to function at her peak with or without sleep allowed her to act like she had, but she had only stolen an hour or so of real rest. "Today we will be gathering information on our enemies, then?"

"After school. It's Saturday, so classes only last until noon and we'll have the rest of the day, and Sunday we don't have classes at all," Shirou clarified while he chopped a carrot swiftly and precisely. He would discuss a more detailed plan of action with Tohsaka once she came back, and the three of them (four if Archer deigned to appear) would start with Ichigo Kurosaki's identity. Rin doubtlessly had the resources to track down an individual's origins using magic, and if the name was not a pseudonym, they could easily find out what they were up against. If the name was a fake, they could at least confirm the fact and adjust their plans accordingly.

Speaking of which… "Saber, there's a phone book in the end table behind you. Could you get it for me?" he asked while reaching for the stove. First off, confirming that someone named Ichigo Kurosaki existed sounded like a good idea. If the Kurosaki name existed, it would then become a question of how many families bore the name and if any had records of a child named Ichigo. Regardless of how much magi looked down their noses at modern technology, searching public records and computer searches at the school library would speed things up notably. Of course, working with the dreaded machines was still a daunting prospect for the third-rate magus.

Even as he started on the potato, he couldn't help but feel he was forgetting something… and then the doorbell rang.

Immediately he started moving, his senses honed to razor awareness as the memories of the previous day flooded his mind. How could he have forgotten? _HOW?_ With all of the chaos in his life over the last week, he had found it difficult to remain entirely within the present. When he should have devoted some of his attention to the here and now, he ended up daydreaming, planning, worrying or otherwise missing important details happening immediately around him. The Holy Grail War was actively conspiring to destroy his sanity before it finished him off, there could be no other reason for him to forget…

"Shirou, hope you're getting a big breakfast ready for me, I'll need it!"

…that Taiga was looking for a match with Saber today. "Good morning, Fuji-nee… You look fired up," was all he could say for several seconds. Under normal circumstances, Shirou would have put all bets on Saber; Servants were far above the abilities of mere humans, and Saber was still widely considered the best Class. Unfortunately Saber's use of her Noble Phantasm all but emptied her prana reserves. Even if she had enough left to function she simply didn't have enough in her to fight off every challenger, especially stubborn ones like the teacher before him. "Listen, Fuji-nee, I know you were planning on having a match with Saber today, but she came down with something-"

"Oh-HO! So she's trying to weasel out of our little contest, is she? I figured she would once she actually found out who she was up against!" the woman crowed victoriously. "I can't blame her for it, but a deal's a deal! If she refuses to fight, then out she goes!"

"Fuji-nee, it has nothing to do with if she wants to or not. She's not feeling her best, and you wouldn't feel right fighting someone with a handicap like that!"

For a split second, it looked like Fujimura would listen to him for once, when she shrugged, and Shirou got the distinct impression that the action had also dislodged the cool hand of logic on her shoulder. "I'll be the judge of that! If she ain't dead she should be ready for this! She did give her word," the irascible teacher all but disregarded the boy's protests and swiftly strode in, barely taking the time to take off her shoes.

Shirou released a sigh when he picked up on the fact that there was one more person heading up the walkway. With her head bowed, eyes downcast with weariness, Sakura Matou's posture brought a minor flashback the first time Shirou had seen her in school. It was actually rather disconcerting: it had taken years to get Sakura to open up as much as she had, and now it looked like something had set her back to square one. "Sakura? Are you feeling okay?"

The plum-haired girl looked up at him with a very slight start before shaking her head. "It's nothing, sempai. I just… didn't sleep well. I'll be okay."

Her slight smile was a little strained, but he wasn't about to turn her away. "If you're sure…" he muttered before stepping aside to allow her in. "Just let me know if you start feeling ill again."

"Thank you, Sempai." Stepping inside, the girl shivered very slightly. "It's just a little chilly."

'_**Bullshit,**_' a dark voice whispered within her mind. More voices droned less distinct agreements.

'_**You can smell the power of this place's spiritual barrier. It sickens you like it does us,**_' one such voice added.

'_**He worries for you. How sweet. Of course, that will only last so long as he knows nothing of what you really are,**_' a third snarled.

Sakura found it extremely hard to lie to Shirou, so she had simply told part of the story. It was completely true that she was not sleeping well for the last three days, and on the surface the nightmares that were plaguing her were perfectly excusable reasons for the trouble. But the voices that followed those nightmares into her waking hours were not so easily explained. Every night more voices were added to the buzz at the back of her mind, each one spiteful, lonely, angry and most obviously **hungry**.

The nightmares all started the same: she would always wander aimlessly around the Matou manor and its surroundings like a ghost cursed to haunt its grounds for all eternity. It was fitting really, given that was practically what she felt like whenever she had to remain in that insufferable place for any more than half a day. And then she would hear a howl and find herself facing one or more masked monsters. No matter what shape they took, all of them bore a white mask and an evil glow from their eyes. They would always strike at her only to be pulled into her body, drowned beneath a whirling pool of darkness, filth and corruption. And once they were swallowed, their agonized wails followed her for the remainder of the night until she woke up, where they would mumble, weep, whisper and hiss like white noise at the edge of her mind. Bound to her.

Absorbed.

This was also quite fitting in its own twisted way: the Matou magic was built around the concept of Absorption: the binding of different concepts and things to oneself. The way these powers were passed on to her was nothing less than physical and emotional torture punctuated with almost feverish study. Sakura's sense of self-worth and oftentimes even her higher brain functions were constantly strained to their absolute limits, and only Zouken's need for her to live long enough to provide an heir to the family stayed his hand from going even further.

Had her grandfather finally pushed her too far? Was the violation and agony of the pit breaking her mind apart after all these years?

Sakura had to deal with a slowly increasing chorus of voices vying to speak, but usually their pain and arguments with each other kept them at a level where she could ignore them. There were still times where they would all but scream for her attention, especially early in the morning when another masked thing was added to her mental choir, giving malicious voice to every dark thought she fought to suppress on top of their personal invectives.

She silently thanked the heavens that the Emiya household put her mind to happier thoughts, which shoved the voices back into the corner of her mind once she forced herself through the threshold. Something within her did not wish to cross over into the building, but once she was through it was almost like everything was back to normal.

Taiga was attempting to loom over the small form of Saber trying to look intimidating. The girl barely looked fazed, only slightly perturbed by the whirlwind of energy the teacher bristled with. As pleasant a person as Saber was, Sakura could not help but feel a twinge of worry. She knew precisely what the blonde was and what it meant for the danger sempai was in.

'_**If you removed her, he wouldn't be in danger…**_' one of those voices managed to whisper before she crushed it down. Even if that was within her power, she knew that most Masters wouldn't care if Shirou was no longer a formal participant, and on top of that Shirou would never run away simply because of danger when innocent people were involved. It just wasn't something he seemed capable of doing even if logic and self-preservation demanded it.

"Shirou tells me you're not feeling your best. From what I see, you're just fine. Getting cold feet?" the teacher taunted the small blonde cheerily.

Saber turned her focus to Shirou. Even though her face was calm and largely expressionless, her disapproval practically rolled off of her in an invisible wave. "Shirou's concern is noted, but I do not go back on my word. I merely had a bout of weakness." Her tone was as even as her expression. "Do you wish to have your contest now or after breakfast?"

"I think I wanna work up an appetite with a little exercise. This won't take too long anyway."

If Saber took the challenge even halfway seriously, it definitely wouldn't take long.

Just as Saber stood up, another face joined the strangely tense room. Rin took one look at the assembled faces before offering a diplomatic smile. "Good morning, everyone. Is there something going on today? I hope it isn't here in the house. That could cause quite a mess."

Taiga turned her mildly stern gaze to Tohsaka before giving her a sly and smug grin. "Oh, don't worry about that, Tohsaka-san. I don't want to EVER risk damaging Shirou's precious kitchen. C'mon Saber-_chan_, let's take this to an appropriate arena." The unsubtle emphasis on the childish suffix was not lost to anyone present, and Shirou felt the overwhelming urge to place a palm to his face. Only Rin's need to maintain her public image kept her from doing the same. Saber did not react visibly aside from standing with her natural regal poise.

"Shirou, we will be using the dojo."

As much as the boy would have preferred to avoid any sort of fight between Saber and, well, anyone, he could only release a sigh and agree. Trying to oppose Taiga in one of her stubborn moods was impossible, and Saber wasn't doing any favors by humoring her. More troubling, Tohsaka was all for it as well, actively trying to usher him out after the two women. He didn't even have time to do more than extend a confused glance at Sakura. For some reason, he felt a brief thrill of cold dread at the look his underclassman was leveling at Tohsaka's back. "Go on ahead, Emiya-kun, I would like to speak with Matou-san quickly before I join you."

'_Why is it impossible for the actual owner of the household to have any control of what happens in it?_' Shirou all but wept inside his mind.

Shirou almost trudged to the dojo just in time to see Saber pluck a shinai from the wall and face the obviously energetic Taiga. Taiga happily leveled her own shinai at the smaller knight and gave a boisterous call. "Alright, here's how it's gonna be: if you're gonna protect Shirou, you must be confident in your skills."

"And you wish to test them? What is the point of this challenge?"

"I'm going to protect Shirou until he grows up; I promised Kiritsugu that I would keep him safe! I'm not just going to let some foreigner come in and sweep him off his feet!"

"…" Neither Shirou nor Saber had any way to respond to that last comment. Then again, they had no idea what the heck Taiga was talking about anyway.

Finally, Saber managed to get things back on track "So I must defeat you in order to prove myself?"

"You got it!" Taiga grinned, fingering the hilt of her beloved weapon. "Of course, it won't be that easy!" without any form of warning, the teacher attacked with amazing speed and skill, enough to overwhelm all but the greatest kendo practitioners in the country on top of seizing the initiative. It was dirty, underhanded and ruthlessly effective.

"Fuji-nee, you're out of your mind!" Shirou all but groaned at her actions.

The fact that Taiga's shinai vanished mid-swing wasn't exactly promising for her chances against her petite adversary. "Eh?" For both Taiga and Shirou, the sight was surreal. Shirou hadn't seen Saber _move_, but suddenly the smaller girl was holding Taiga's shinai in her off-hand and her own weapon hadn't even left its position at her side. She didn't even need to take a stance! With all of the ease of plucking a flower, she had removed the weapon from her opponent's grip without even disturbing Taiga's swing.

Even drained of the vast majority of her prana reserves, Saber was still a Servant, after all.

It was this scene that Rin and Sakura arrived to watch what they expected to be a match just getting started. Shirou glanced back towards the girls and only barely managed to catch the oddity in their postures. Tohsaka looked shaken; maybe even a little pale, while Sakura had just the _slightest_ glimmer of satisfaction in her eyes before they all found themselves staring at the spectacle of Taiga and Saber.

"Will this suffice?" Saber turned to face her opponent, who was still staring rather dumbfounded at her empty hands.

"…No way… Is this real?" Taiga mumbled, biting her lip and looking back to Saber with eyes quivering with unshed tears.

"If that is all, I believe I have fulfilled your criteria. A swordswoman of your skill should be able to tell what this means."

No sooner had she finished that Taiga dropped to her knees and _wailed_. The sudden cry was so loud and abrupt that Shirou would swear blind in the future that she generated a shockwave with it. "WAAAAAAAAH! SHIROU'S BEING TAKEN AWAY BY A STRANGER!"

Visibly taken aback by the woman's graceless response, Saber gingerly approached Taiga and placed a tentative hand on her shoulder, shifting the two shinai to hold both in one hand. "Do not cry: I have no intention of taking Shirou away from you. I merely wish to follow my own vow to protect him."

Taiga's crying cut off into slightly choked hiccups while she gazed up at her rival. "R-really?" she blubbered hopefully.

Saber offered her a serene smile. "Of course. A knight does not lie when speaking of their oaths."

"You-" Taiga sniffed. "You're-" she tried again. "-WIDE OPEN!" she howled victoriously, her eyes suddenly dry and one of the shinai Saber was holding a second ago again in her hand and poised to strike!

Saber's serene expression did not shift in the slightest when her body straightened, listed just out of the swing's path, and casually swatted the weapon out of Taiga's grip and across the dojo. "That was the second time you attempted to catch me off guard through ignoble methods. I will not tolerate a third act of dishonor, are we clear?" she stated almost brightly.

Taiga gulped. As hard as it was to believe, Saber was just ridiculously good. For someone who was known as the terror of the regional Kendo circuit, the "Tiger of Fuyuki," it was rather jarring to face someone who had no openings at all. Any other human being would drop their guard at some point. Saber was quite simply a monster with a sword. "I understand, ma'am."

"Very well. If there is nothing _else_," Saber started, leveling an eerie smile towards the wide-eyed Taiga who shook her head fervently, "I believe Shirou was cooking breakfast."

'_Women are more terrifying when they smile than at any other time,_' Shirou surmised, already turning to get back to the safety of the kitchen, Sakura right on his heels. They would be safe in the kitchen. No one would DARE start any havoc in his and Sakura's personal domain.

They hoped.

* * *

Anyone with any shred of ability at reading a room's mood could pick up an unexpected tension within the penthouse suite. Tatsuki, Chad and Orihime were already gone by the time the Servant and Master had entered the living space, but everyone else felt a great temptation to go after them to avoid the potential powder keg.

Ever since Ichigo and Rider had left their respective rooms to grab a light breakfast, they had looked uneasy. There was no hostility between them, but they obviously wanted to talk but had no idea how to initiate the conversation. Ichigo would occasionally send measuring glances Rider's way, sweep his eyes around the room and its occupants, bite back a sigh, and opt to do something else. Rider was more subtle, but her attention shifted to Ichigo the instant the boy looked to her as though waiting for some kind of signal.

Trying to get his plans in order, Ichigo finally noticed the absence of three of their number. Chad was out running as an escort for Lancer's last victim to make sure no one tried anything to tie up the loose end she represented. Ichigo doubted Orihime would go with him on something like that even considering her compassionate nature. That left… "Hey, did Orihime go with Tatsuki today?" Ichigo might not have had the most extensive knowledge of his friends' private lives, but Tatsuki's near-constant training regimen was not something he expected the redhead to join in with, even though Orihime was apparently pretty good at karate herself. Not that he'd seen any sign of that yet.

"Oh yeah, Tatsuki was pretty insistent that she give a morning jog a try. She also made arrangements to meet with McRemitz-san today. They've really taken to her," Rukia explained.

Ichigo grunted in acknowledgement. He could sort of understand that attachment. There was a certain sense of responsibility that he experienced when he found out Orihime and Chad developed powers simply from hanging around him for so long. Frankly he was more surprised it took Tatsuki as long as it did to develop any abilities of her own given that effect. If Bazett's spiritual powers awakened due to exposure to Orihime or Tatsuki's auras, they would feel a need to check up on the older woman while they could.

Pushing that matter aside, Ichigo glanced at the TV and immediately noticed a bit of footage that had him grabbing the remote and cranking up the volume before he even realized what he was doing.

The broadcast was a morning news program and the footage was from a helicopter circling a rather familiar office building. The top five floors of last night's battlefield were shown to have their windows shattered completely, and several pieces of light furniture and many loose papers were scattered haphazardly or blown out of the windows.

"-around 1 AM this morning. Street crews have managed to clear most of the glass, but a minor detour has been placed around the building for the duration, and will be inspected for further explosive devices. The police have not identified any suspects, but the investigation is ongoing. Witnesses claim a brief but blinding flash of light rising into the sky preceded the explosion, but thus far no one has come forward with any more information. Thankfully, no one was injured," the reporter concluded before switching to another story.

Turning the volume back down, Ichigo blew out a sigh of relief. In the heat of the moment the possibility of the damage a clash between him and a Servant might have caused, especially with Noble Phantasms involved, had completely slipped his mind. Then again the last few times he had put absolutely everything he could into a fight he was in a place where collateral damage was not his concern.

Unfortunately Fuyuki wasn't in Hueco Mundo nor was it an empty facsimile of a real city. He was fighting in the middle of the World of the Living, and not only were there innocent people to watch for but damage that the magi decided not to fix would not be simply ignored by the world at large. He got lucky last night. No one was hurt by a rain of glass, nor were any late-night workers inside the damaged stories. "Damn it," he finally growled. Why hadn't he just grabbed Rider and taken her out of the blast's trajectory rather than try and match _Excalibur_?

After flicking her gaze in Ichigo's direction, Rukia looked over at the TV and frowned. "These kinds of situations are why higher-ranked Soul Reapers must wear limiters when in the Living World. What worries me is that while wearing them I don't think anyone short of the four eldest Captains would be able to match a Servant, even without Noble Phantasms in the equation." Her words pulled Ichigo from his self-recrimination.

She really knew how he thought, didn't she?

"I already sent a warning in my reports about the Servants, so ideally any reinforcements we receive will be at least lieutenant-level," Rukia elaborated before standing. "I think I'll head to Homurabara High School again. I should only be gone for a few hours until the school empties. After that we should be able to track any magi to their bases of operation easily enough." With that, Rukia gathered up her bag, laden with "project supplies" like a camera, pens and notebooks as well as her Soul Reaper tools, including her Substitute Soul. She was gone in a second, leaving Ichigo alone with Rider and Uryu.

For the Quincy's part, he simply pulled out a pair of white earbuds, plugged them into his laptop and went back to whatever he was doing, likely checking out fashion trends or researching King Arthur and Excalibur (pleasure or business, respectively). Either way, he had already read Ichigo's need for privacy with Rider loud and clear. Seated at the dining table, there was plenty of space for Ichigo and Rider to talk in private without the danger of Uryu overhearing anything sensitive until Ichigo was ready to talk.

Of course, now that he had the space, Ichigo found that he had no idea how to start. "Uh, hey, Rider? There's something I need to talk to you about."

Rider nodded once. "There are things I need to discuss with you, as well. Your room is the most secure, shall we speak there?"

"Sure." Once they were in the master bedroom and Ichigo settled in the plush chair while Rider seated herself on the edge of the bed, Ichigo finally spoke.

It never occurred to him that he was finding it easier to talk to Rider than just about anyone he had ever met.

"Okay, I think I need to start with a warning; some of the stuff I'm gonna ask about is probably gonna get personal, so I understand if you don't want to talk about some things. I need at least some answers, though. So to make up for that, you can ask me any question you feel you need to for every one you answer. Sound fair?"

Rider nodded.

"Alright. First off, does the name Bloodfort Andromeda mean anything to you?" Ichigo started with something simple and from what he saw, relatively impersonal.

"The Outer-Seal, Blood Temple. It is one of the possible Noble Phantasms I could be summoned with." Technically she could have ended her explanation there, but that felt like she was hiding something that she shouldn't worry about. "Blood Fort Andromeda is a large barrier designed to seal off an area to prevent escape and then harvest the souls of trapped victims to sustain me. In life, it was my first line of defense and a permanent shroud over the isle I dwelled on."

Ichigo leveled a slight glare at his Servant. "I think it goes without saying that I won't tolerate you using it."

"You need not worry. I was not summoned with it, likely due to how ill-suited it is to you as my Master. Even if I could use it, it takes many days to set up and activate."

"Huh?"

"I was not summoned with access to the Blood Fort at all. Instead I have another Noble Phantasm more suited to your nature and methods."

Ichigo blinked in surprise, but at least this surprise was a good one. If Rider was as clear-cut with him with his future questions, this would go far more smoothly than he thought. Then again, the more personal questions still needed to be asked. "Alright, your turn."

Rider did not even take more than a second to start her inquiry. "In my sleep I have met a spirit who calls himself Zangetsu." Unlike Ichigo, Rider did not see the need to start small and worked to cut straight to the point, but she needed to set some information down first.

Her first sentence, however, caught Ichigo's attention. "Wait, you _met_ Zangetsu? Describe him."

Seeing no harm in it, Rider replied, "He resembles a tall man in his prime with pale skin clad in a coat of dark flame, glasses colored like amber over his eyes and pitch black hair. His features are angular and stern."

With each word Ichigo's eyes widened. "How the- That's…" He couldn't even think of a complete sentence, let alone say one. Meeting Zangetsu would imply she had taken a walk on the inside of his Inner World! The solemn sword spirit wasn't one to show himself to just anyone, and his presence would definitely be noticed if he decided to manifest nearby. Just how deep did this Master/Servant thing _go_?

As if reading his mind, Rider added, "A Servant and a Master are intended to understand each other even if they cannot always agree. The Grail links them through more than the Command Mantra, and Zangetsu was able to take advantage of this directly to guide what I saw. I assume you have been having strangely clear dreams over the last few nights?" It occurred to Rider that she never mentioned the dream cycle to Ichigo. Honestly, her wariness in revealing her identity while bombarding him with memories every time he slept must have been terribly confusing to her Master.

Ichigo had to take a moment to relax again before he could word a response longer than a syllable. "…Yeah. Is it another Servant thing?"

"Yes. The dream cycle allows both Master and Servant to experience the other's life in our dreams. Zangetsu interrupted the process for me and spoke directly to me in a realm resembling a city turned on its side."

Ichigo wasn't sure how to feel about that. His Inner World was a sanctuary he never thought anyone other than himself would ever enter (or that anyone _could_ ever enter), more to the point, it was **his soul**. Rider was apparently getting a free pass to his deepest secrets and memories, and only having Zangetsu running interference kept Rider from seeing **everything** in his life. Ichigo wasn't sure if he should feel violated, outraged or plain stunned. He settled on the last one.

Ignoring the befuddled look she was getting, Rider continued. "This previous night showed me something that troubles me. In addition to Zangetsu, there was another entity in your memory, maddened and only somewhat more lucid than Berserker. Zangetsu called it your instinct. What is it?"

Still reeling from the revelation of the bond and its implications, Ichigo found it hard to get the lump out of his throat. Sure, he had gotten over the presence of the white-washed maniac in his soul and accepted its presence, but it unnerved him that Rider had met him. He couldn't dodge the question either, having given his word to be honest. Openly admitting to the psycho's existence to anyone still left a bad taste in his mouth. "My… Hollow," he started, trying to find a way to explain his peculiar circumstances simply. "He's like my killer instinct without any rational restraint: how I would be if I ever turned into a Hollow completely."

"So _he_ is both an aspect of yourself and a separate entity in the same manner as your zanpakutou. I worry what may happen should you continue to split your nature between these… aspects." Rider slightly emphasized that unseen entity had a pretty clear identity and gender for her understanding. She could have asked for more details, but she would wait her turn.

"It's not like I _want_ to make Swiss cheese of my psyche, but… look it's a long story."

"I understand. Whatever gave rise to the Hollow's presence is not truly relevant here. It exists and you have some measure of control over it," Rider summarized and let the matter rest for the moment.

"How…" Ichigo stopped himself. He wanted to ask how much of his past Zangetsu had showed her, but that would count as one of his questions, and he needed to get the more immediately relevant stuff out of the way first. "So, you're saying that what I'm dreaming isn't even a dream, but some of your memories. Then I want to know about Perseus and where he fit into your story. He's supposed to be a great Greek hero."

Rider's posture shifted and her head turned away with obvious irritation. "He was the demigod child charged with killing me by the gods of Olympus. Perseus only agreed to do it out of a desire for glory, not because I was a monster or a threat to life."

"What?" the teenager almost lost his balance at the very concept. "Would it have been so hard to just let you and your sisters live in peace? What the hell did you do to deserve that crap?"

"You have read my story. Mad or not, my divinity and any desire to help humanity was lost when I was seen as a man-eater. I was not a merciful thing, nor was I enduring a split in my mind like it appears you are. I was quite simply fueled by a desire to kill every human that I encountered."

Hearing that, Ichigo had to bite back a curse. The priest's magic book had told him that much, making her "purpose" sound completely overriding of Medusa's real personality that he was getting to know and appreciate. He wanted to offer some support, maybe shift the blame to the Greek gods, but they weren't around to vent on directly. Worse, he could not imagine anything remotely close to what she must have gone through. He fought tooth and nail to overcome his Hollow, but his Servant was never given the chance and thrust into the role of a monster without any chance to resist her fate. Any consolation he offered would sound empty before that difference.

"I'm sorry," he eventually managed to say.

"Don't be. I was almost waiting to die by that time, but it galls me that a wretch like Perseus would be the one to do it. He was childish, rude and arrogant. I shudder to think what he would have done were I in this human shape at the time." Rider must have really hated the guy for her voice to actually gain a little noticeable heat in it.

"Uh… yeah." Ichigo floundered a bit. That wasn't exactly what he expected to hear from Rider about her killer. He did expect the bitterness, but it almost sounded like she was talking about some sleaze who hit on her in a bar instead of the one who took her life with a sickle, however painful that life might have been. Perhaps she was simply trying to push her thoughts away from the previous topic.

"If this 'Hollow' you carry is really your killer instinct incarnate, have you ever given in to him? Would he not try and pressure you to kill or force his way to the surface like he did against Byakuya Kuchiki?"

"Tch. Saw that did you?" the Master sighed. He had long learned to trust Zangetsu's judgment, but hearing that one of his major moments of weakness was already known to Rider frustrated him. The solemn warrior-weapon had no problems doing whatever it felt it needed to if it meant protecting Ichigo, even from himself, much to its wielder's chagrin. "There are a few Soul Reapers who had the same issue I did. I eventually had to ask them for help. I hoped I could handle it on my own, but the thought of losing to him scared me. He fed on that fear and only grew stronger the longer he was there."

"Perhaps that is why you did not fall like I did. As much as you would prefer to take as many burdens as possible onto your shoulders, you have people willing to help bear them. Never forget that," Rider told him kindly but firmly.

After the last topic, Ichigo decided that he should come clean with a bad memory as well. "I'm not perfect about it. I did lose control one other time."

Rider said nothing, settling in to listen.

"At one point I was nearly killed by an arrancar, an elite warrior named Ulquiorra Cifer. I was so focused on saving my friends from him after he nearly killed me that I just… let go. I almost murdered everyone near me, even my friends. Ulqiourra's last attack actually saved them and got me back in control. It's kinda ironic. The people I protect saved from their protector by an enemy." An extremely abridged version of events, but he had a feeling Zangetsu would show her in due time. It wasn't something he liked bringing up in detail, either.

"Zangetsu has also shown me the way you distanced yourself from everyone you cared about the longer you fought Hollows."

Despite her logical progression of topics, Ichigo was still getting irritated. "It's not like I wanted to, but Hollows aren't something normal people can or should have to deal with."

Rider nodded, but was undeterred. "I understand. You wish to shelter them from the possible danger. And yet if you fail in your self-imposed duty even once, you have to know that there will be no one else to protect them if you have your way." She left out "_even from yourself_" but the implication hung in the air.

"It really doesn't matter what I want anyway. They always come along because they want to, and I can't talk them out of it, so I have their support."

"Against your hopes, I would hazard to guess. As much as you would prefer to be the only one whose life is ever in danger, the people around never seem to feel the need to remain 'safe.'" Ichigo was extremely stubborn about taking the lead in any battle. He was not a leader, nor did she expect him to be. Still, he needed to stop acting like his life had only token value and learn when to step back. She had yet to see a single memory where he had done so willingly.

It was too early in the day to deal with anything remotely cryptic in Ichigo's mind. Either she would tell it to him straight or he would walk out of here and try again later. The thought of using a Command Spell crossed his mind, but Ichigo crushed it ruthlessly. "Just skip to the point," he growled. "What does this have to do with our partnership?"

"You are a proud warrior, but for all of your skill and power you are very kind, even to those you oppose. Unfortunately this is not the proper mindset to survive the Grail War. You are used to facing an enemy fairly from the front. Your display of power last night likely will convince other Masters and their Servants to resort to indirect methods to draw you out and kill you. Even if the Knight classes are largely honorable, their Masters are under no compulsion to indulge them, and can even force them to assassinate you with a simple Command. If you must, step back and let me deal with them."

The young swordsman rolled his eyes. "Sorry, but if you're trying to scare me into being merciless, it's failing miserably. Hell, some of my strongest allies I had to beat to a pulp before they started siding with me."

Rider patiently reminded herself that her Master was still young, and had yet to experience the Heaven's Feel's level of ruthlessness from what she had seen. If he had, the entire group would have swarmed the Masters and dealt with them permanently the instant they crossed paths. "You cannot afford to be kind or expect honor from anyone here. Do not hesitate to rely on me in those cases. That is all I am saying."

"…We'll see. You might be surprised. At the very least that guy from the roof doesn't seem the typical magus you've hinted at even if he does have Saber..." Ichigo then stopped, shook his head forcefully and schooled his expression into his familiar scowl. "And we are getting horribly off track. I have just one more thing I have to ask you about."

With a very slight shift in her posture, Rider remained silent. She honestly didn't think anything short of losing someone he cared for would change Ichigo's mind about combat, but Rider had no compunctions about killing the enemy quietly anyway. So long as she was upfront with him should he ask and kept him informed of events, she felt justified in taking whatever actions were necessary.

"Last night I not only saw Perseus, I saw something else: you, I think. Perseus called you by name, and then something dropped in front of him. I couldn't see much, but…" Ichigo tried to act diplomatic, but that unnatural fear in his vision almost outright compelled him to speak of the other form of Medusa with awe. He had largely mastered whatever twisted his emotions, but some still lingered.

"My Gorgon form," Rider stated with little emotion. "When I said I had become a monster, I was not speaking in metaphor." For a moment, Ichigo was sure he let something in his demeanor slip to show his opinion on her Gorgon status, as she continued to speak. "It is entirely natural to have felt fear in the face of that form: even a memory would carry the instinctive dread I emanated."

"What makes you think I felt anything? I've faced some _real_ monsters already. Ask Zangetsu about Ulquiorra or Kenpachi Zaraki sometime," Ichigo replied quickly. He was sure he twitched, but he couldn't tell if his Servant noticed or not. '_Damn blindfold._'

"You are a human. As a Gorgon my existence caused all humans regardless of origins to fear me and my purpose to destroy human life. If you are born human, you are compelled to fear me in that state even if you are able to overcome that fear and fight me. Even human ghosts would likely flee rather than act against me. Most who approached either fell victim to Cybele and were turned to stone or I had eaten them." The almost blasé way Rider listed her usual responses was unnerving, but Rider was never human at any point and had little attachment to the race as a whole.

That fear-inducing ability was yet another example of, in Ichigo's straightforward mind, cheating by otherworldly entities. Nothing should compel another to feel a specific emotion without a chance to resist or react naturally. Even Aizen's illusions twisted his victims' senses to convince them to feel and see a certain way, stopping short of outright emotional control. "Anything I should know about that could make you losing control?"

"No. In fact my Gorgon form is inaccessible to me as I am." Perhaps it was Ichigo's Hollow (seeing as it was manifested _instinct_) affecting her summoning, but Rider lacked the Monstrous Strength skill that would normally grant her that ability. Instead she had a moderately high Instinct skill. In fact the skill was a better choice for Rider given her Master's tendency to seek out and draw combat. Having an ability to help compensate for her relatively lower fighting skills allowed her to trade blows more ably with the Knight Classes even if she was still not on their level. The Assassin and Caster classes were almost a non-issue on that front.

The less said about even _trying_ to keep pace with Berserker with her skill set the better.

Ichigo took a moment to think things over. He still had questions (why she allowed herself to be summoned, details on her Noble Phantasms, etc.), but for the moment he had the worst out of the way. There was still the issue of how she was getting into his Inner World, but he doubted she had any way of knowing more than he did. He still felt a shadow of unease clawing at his thoughts from Medusa's past. For the moment he shoved it down. The last time he let doubts plague him for even an instant it quite nearly got him killed. Better to leave the worries and strategies to his companions and play the big gun or the siege engine.

Still, he would find that trying not to think about it only made him more prone to making comparisons. Medusa's life was practically an allegory of how Ichigo's own life could have gone horribly wrong if he tried to go into battle alone like he felt he had to, a twisted black reflection. It was apparently a blessing that his friends were stubborn enough to ignore him and march into danger at his side.

It was also strangely comforting realizing that Medusa understood him already. Only Rukia had come to see through him so clearly, and that took months. "I think that's enough for today. I don't think there's anything else I need to know right now," he said with a slight sigh on his lips and stood up.

His Servant took to her feet with a grace that definitely fit with her origin as a goddess. "Perhaps it would work best if we simply discussed these matters each day rather than let the matter sit off to the side."

"Good idea. Just remember that I won't tolerate innocent people dying if we can do something about it, understand?" the Soul Reaper's sharp tone allowed no argument. It was probably one of the only things he would use a Command Spell to prevent if worse came to worse.

"Yes, Master," his Servant replied sincerely and followed him back into the living area. She could not fault Ichigo's nature on that front.

* * *

While Sakura and Shirou amiably traded ideas for new recipes, apparently finding Saber's quiet but unstoppable enthusiasm for eating a fun addition to their meals, Rin remained silent and kept her eyes forward. Her own thoughts whirled over that short moment where she had confronted her sister less than two hours ago.

The idea was simple: being anywhere near Shirou or Rin was going to put the soft-spoken Sakura in tremendous danger, so it was best to drive her off for the interim. The fact that the plum-haired girl was not a Master took a great weight off of Rin's shoulders, but that didn't change a thing as far as the danger went. She had tried to be diplomatic but firm. Considering how accommodating and shy Sakura was at school, Rin thought it would have been enough to tell her that she did not "need" to come over anymore.

What had happened then shook Rin to her very core. Sakura had narrowed her eyes and lowered her head very slightly, one hand clutching at her chest almost like a claw before she managed to meet her sempai's eyes. For a moment, Rin could have sworn that a black, inky substance had splattered the edge of Sakura's eyes before she lowered them and mastered herself. When she looked up and spoke, her words were strained but there was no sign of whatever effect had colored her eyes. While she gave a polite refusal to Rin's "suggestion," her _presence_ drove all of the blood from Rin's face and rooted her to the spot for several seconds.

Sakura, the normally sweet and kind girl, had mustered a genuinely **murderous** intent towards Rin if only for a second. On top of that, something pulled down at her from beneath her feet during that second, almost as if gravity had strengthened unnaturally.

It was gone in an instant, but… to feel her sister direct so much hostility towards her! What the hell happened to her when she wasn't looking? For the moment Rin opted not to push Sakura lest she learn just what the old demon had been teaching her firsthand. Something was dangerously close to snapping in the younger girl.

Finally, her attention was pulled to the present when she spotted her old school friend chatting animatedly with an older man. A _big_ one. Broad of shoulder and bronze-skinned, the man had all the immovable presence of a redwood.

"Ah, Mitsuzuri-san, good morning," Rin called with her trademark "model student" smile. With a polite bow, she also greeted the towering man. "And to you, sir."

The captain of the school's archery team looked over her shoulder and gave a friendly grin to the approaching trio. "Morning, everyone." Ayako Mitsuzuri was one of the few "normal" people that Rin felt comfortable hanging around for a prolonged period; both were highly competitive and among the best athletes in their year, and had developed something of a friendly rivalry since they met the previous year. The rest all knew each other from their time in the Archery Club.

The behemoth gave a slight nod and a grunt that somehow sounded personable.

"This guy's a visitor from Karakura Town out west. Yasutora Sado," Ayako introduced the giant, who towered more than a head over her, his eyes hidden behind a wavy curtain of dark brown hair. Given his size and chiseled features, he was likely a foreigner brought in via one of the college exchange programs.

"Pleased to meet you," he said, no, _rumbled_ in a deep baritone.

"A pleasure, Sado-san. My name is Rin Tohsaka."

"My name is S-Sakura Matou," the plum haired girl's shy greeting was barely audible, especially with the other two girls' dominating personalities.

"Shirou Emiya. What brings you to Fuyuki, Sado-san?" It was almost a novel experience for Shirou to have to look up at someone to meet their eyes when speaking to them.

"School project." The man's bluntness should have sounded rude or forced, but from him it sounded natural, calming even. "A class study on Fuyuki City."

"My my. Mitsuzuri-san, I had no idea you were looking into older men. A college student! Where did you meet him?" Rin chided playfully, though she did feel a minor twinge of worry that her friend could very well have snagged a boyfriend before she could. She was not looking forward to the idea of losing that old bet and ending up Ayako's plaything for a whole day.

Sado smiled slightly at that and Ayako outright laughed, obviously sharing a private joke. "I'm sixteen," the towering teen revealed. "Karakura High School freshman."

Completely forgetting Rin's question the three magi/students gawked and reevaluated Ayako's companion curiously for a moment before manners had them awkwardly looking away and attempting to seem unaffected.

"Don't worry about it. I reacted the same way," Ayako confided to her rival. "Thanks for walking with me, Sado-kun. I'll catch you later!" With that and a wave, Ayako passed the gates into Homurabara. The Archery Club had a short meeting after class, and the captain needed to make sure she had everything in good condition.

"Mm. Have a good day." Sado turned to the others and gave an informal nod in place of a bow before turning and heading back up the street. The moment the students were out of sight, Sado finally let some of his spiritual pressure out. He was not about to risk Mitsuzuri developing spiritual awareness simply because of his caution. That would only make the delicate situation worse. Fortunately, Masters and Servants were generally inactive during the day, so danger right now was minimal aside from Hollows.

While true that no one else in their circle had Ichigo's uncontrollable fountain of energy to deal with (at least before Rider started soaking up that energy), anyone who was able to tangle with an arrancar or a lieutenant-level Soul Reaper had more than enough power to influence nearby human souls and/or awaken spiritual awareness, and continued exposure only exacerbated the effect.

Naturally, this meant that just about everyone had to practice some measure of restraint. The calm, defensive nature of Sado's own powers meant that keeping his energy suppressed wasn't taxing in the least, but he was still more vulnerable than he liked in this subtly tense environment. The extra second it took to flood his body with protective spirit energy and then deploy his armor would prove a fatal second too long against enemies like Lancer.

It was only the fact that so many people were around that stopped him from deploying his shield arm right away after he spotted the extra presence hovering behind Ayako's schoolmates. Chad had managed to avoid looking directly at the tall spirit (the red and black spirit was almost as tall as the half-Mexican, which was saying something), but he stole glances occasionally and kept his spiritual awareness firmly on the dangerous entity. Most disturbingly, even though he was within spitting distance, the Servant had _no_ presence at all. Chad doubted even a member of the Second Division would be able to suppress themselves so completely at that range save their Captain.

Pulling out his phone, Sado thumbed through his contacts and dialed Rukia. "It's me. You aren't going to believe this…" Running into someone who matched Ichigo's description of Saber's Master as well as another Servant so suddenly was definitely an uncanny stroke of luck.

Back at the school gate, the three magi had a brief moment of confusion, voiced rather thoroughly by Shirou. "Did he look sixteen to you?"

"Maybe he's an exchange student," Sakura guessed thoughtfully.

"That would explain his brief manner of speech, but you would have to ask Mitsuzuri-san," Rin observed with a shrug. Over the years she had seen far stranger things, but that encounter was still rather novel. The three magi soon had to part ways to reach their respective classrooms. Sakura, as a member of the Archery club, left first to help Ayako set up.

Before they reached the school, Archer spoke up. "_I think we've found yet another one. He was trying to hide it, but that Sado guy definitely noticed my presence and general area. I couldn't quite tell if he was able to really see me, though_," the spirit said, his eyes focused on where Chad's head towered over the people around him.

"Great." Rin bit back a curse. As a magus, paranoia was a required survival mechanism, and her sharp mind ran through possible scenarios involving her defenseless friend meeting one of her possible enemies. Did Sado or his allies already find out who she knew and targeted them to get to her? "Can you watch him without leaving the area?"

"_I can try, but he's been moving back towards the bridge. I'll lose sight of him in about thirty minutes assuming he sticks to the open roads. If he wants he could be gone in minutes._"

"Keep watch as long as you can." Rin leaned over towards Shirou, whose tense expression showed that he had managed to follow the gist of the conversation with his strange ability. "We'll meet in the library after school."

Shirou nodded before they split off towards their respective classrooms. He had managed to catch most of the conversation despite not channeling any prana to his ears. He didn't even need to try Reinforcement, just moving his magical energy around was enough. It looked like Kurosaki's group had people everywhere from the sound of things. That was not going to do his nerves any favors.


	22. Witch Hunt Part II: Lines are Drawn

_Witch Hunt Part II: Lines are Drawn_

Given how these new variables to the Grail War kept popping out of the woodwork, Archer would have much preferred to stay closer to Rin even during a short day of classes. Her order had him standing on the roof, pacing periodically to watch all possible angles of approach. As he had estimated, the numerous buildings quickly swallowed view of his mark about half an hour after Archer had taken his post. A few hours had passed since then and he hadn't seen anything suspicious approach the building from any angle. That didn't mean he was entirely comfortable with his assignment, especially given what one of the teachers working here was…

…Assuming that this timeline's Caster had the same Master.

…Assuming he was in anything like his original universe anymore.

'_God damn it, Kaleidoscope._' There was no other phenomenon he could fathom that would put him in this situation.

During a scan facing the street-facing side of the campus, a small black shadow caught his attention. When he silently glided forward to follow it, he found a familiar figure coming to a stop at the main class building beneath his feet. The small girl down at the ground floor was the same one who killed that masked creature the other day. Clad in those same voluminous robes from last time and carrying that perfectly sized katana, she seemed unconcerned with the possibility of drawing attention and scanned the interior of the building through the long line of windows lining the wall. Judging from the movement of her head as she continued down the lot, she was looking for something or someone.

Considering the spiritual nature of this ghostly swordswoman, Archer opted for caution and did not move from his spot in case she shared the brat's level of spiritual sight and had enough experience to track motions from her peripheral. Through his enhanced eyes Archer could read a wealth of information from the girl and the Knight of the Bow filed away everything for review should he face her in battle.

The figure moved confidently but with care and a single hand resting on the sheath of her sword: she wasn't expecting trouble, but she was making a point of remaining alert for it. Despite her petite size and youthful features the girl obviously had at least some combat experience and skill. He mentally accounted for the sword's length and her limbs to deduce her strike range. He wouldn't dare try and gauge her raw power from her appearance alone. He would need to face her to be sure, but he deduced she would try to close quickly with hit-and-run tactics rather than match an opponent blow for blow. While the robes hid most of her body, he would bet money she was built for quick sprints and jumps as opposed to holding a rigid stance. Overall she acted with a professional decorum, though he could only guess what she was a professional at.

Archer had already attempted to analyze her weapon when he first saw her but came up short, almost in the same manner of looking at something unearthly. The only details he gleaned were that the weapon was in a dormant state and, in an oddly insistent metaphor, cold as a snow drift.

Finally, the black swordswoman passed out of sight and around the building. With no need to worry about her seeing his movements, Archer pulled himself back to a specific location on the rooftop before letting his astral form fall two floors down. From there he merely needed to pass through the doorway into Rin's classroom. A few dozen plans had concocted themselves already, and more branched from them based on his Master's responses and the target's allegiances.

It actually was rather weird knowing that he had to move like an assassin (or at least with far greater care than usual) even while astralized to avoid unwanted scrutiny.

The Servant slipped into Rin's classroom and whispered to his Master from behind her shoulder. "_We have a guest on the grounds. Spiritual in nature, though not quite the same as a Servant. It's the same spirit who came here the other day. This time she's looking for something through the windows._" The whispering was just to keep Rin from missing the teacher's lecture. No one else could hear him anyway.

"Your opinion?" Rin whispered while she continued to diligently take notes on the history lecture. Good; she was deferring to his experience even if she held the reins on their decisions.

"_Given this is the second time this spirit has shown up, she might be contracted or bound to watch over this area as a guardian. There is also a chance that she might know something about the new enemies. Or she could be one of them herself. Track and confront, fight to subdue if negotiation breaks down,_" he suggested quickly, letting his Master have a moment to think and maintain her poise as a model student for the teacher.

"Keep an eye on her for now. Too many people," Rin finally decided. Archer figured as much, and agreed. Once the building emptied, they would be free to act.

He moved purposefully towards the window and peeked out to check the spirit girl's progress in her search. Sure enough, she was idly scanning the first year classrooms, sweeping her eyes over each room before moving on to the next window. After seeing nothing of interest on the first floor, the girl jumped straight up, easily reaching to the height of the second story window on the far corner of the building and, quite simply, stopping. It was like she was standing on an invisible platform… wait, that's exactly what she's doing.

Archer found this rather peculiar: a wraith affected by gravity to the point they needed to manipulate prana to resist it? That wasn't normal no matter which magus you asked. Furthering this thought, the girl extended that platform of energy with every step, walking in mid-air along the windows. In a few seconds she would pass in front of Class 2-C, and Archer doubted that the spirit-seeing Master would be able to hide his nature from the girl. Rin would be fine. She wasn't able to see spirits and would do nothing to draw attention to herself during class.

He would have loved to dismiss the matter as not his problem, but Archer was not one to leave a potential variable ignored. If she was looking for someone, nothing short of killing her would keep her from looking assuming she wasn't bound in some fashion and able to restore herself. For all he knew, the patrol route she was taking had nothing to do with seeking anyone in particular. It could just be a general watch over the region for more dark beasts to slay.

Given Archer's luck, he wasn't about to place bets on that.

If he couldn't stop her from looking without provoking a far too visible fight, then the best thing to do was get an idea of what she was looking for. To that end he phased through the wall and swept in a wide arc to the other side of the school lot and hovered on top of the wall surrounding the campus. Even if she took note of his presence she would have no way of knowing who he was working with. If she recognized his Master, then it would only confirm that she was tied to the white bowman who tangled with him a few nights back.

And as though summoned by his ire… "It's turning into quite the nice day," a rather… unpleasantly familiar voice commented from the wall just below him. Archer didn't bother glancing down at the boy he knew was leaning casually against the wall.

"_Shouldn't you be in school, kid?_"

After a contemplative sigh, the boy spoke again with an appropriately distracted tone. "Hard to believe this trip is on a school budget. Who knew Fuyuki had such history?" The bespectacled boy's mutterings were well-scripted. You'd almost never guess he was doing anything more than talking to himself to organize his thoughts. "Still, it seems our timing could use some work. Dangerous accidents, disappearances, talks of a curfew…"

"_Sounds like quite the problem. Sticking your nose in other peoples' business is bound to have repercussions, though,_" Archer replied, still keeping his eyes on the robed samurai inspecting the building. She was already past both the classrooms of the Masters and had yet to act. The interloper hadn't even turned in his direction yet.

Below him, Archer heard the rustling of paper, the click of a pen followed by the scratching of precise writing. He dare not look away from his diminutive target to see what he was writing, though.

He had nothing to fear from the white bowman anyway: an astralized Servant was so far removed from the physical plane that not even other spirits could affect them. The only beings able to perceive these guardian ghosts aside from another Servant (and Saber's Master and this bowman, apparently) were the Masters of a given Servant. Even then, the Masters only received a mental impression of their presence rather than any physical phenomenon even if they shouted at the top of their metaphorical lungs. To those who could see them, their appearance was like a hologram: an intangible marker that showed where a Servant would materialize at that moment if desired. Heck, the Servants' ability to perceive through sight and sound while astralized was wired into them through the Grail more for the Masters' benefit than the Servant's own.

For the first time, the boy spoke directly to Archer while keeping his voice barely audible. Only superhuman hearing would pick up anything. "I am not one to instigate a fight if one can be avoided, Archer-san."

"_Trying to involve yourself in the Holy Grail War is a pretty lousy way to avoid a fight,_" Archer pointed out blandly, eyes narrowing as the samurai lifted herself over the fence on the roof and alighted there. '_Now what's she up to?_'

"Perhaps you are right about that. But the alternative is to allow possibly sociopathic magi and superhuman legendary figures to kill innocent people. We cannot allow that no matter how you try to rationalize it." The teen's tone was level and almost casual, but the underlying threat was clear. "If you or your Master has a decent wish and no issues protecting the lives of the powerless, we have no real reason to fight you."

"_Awfully heroic of you,_" the red knight drawled sarcastically. "_Does this little visit of yours have a purpose or are you just rubbing your information network in our faces?_"

Uryu tapped the tip of his pen against his notebook and focused on it severely. Anyone watching would assume he was trying to compose something and had a bout of Writer's Block. "You and your Master still haven't answered my question from our first meeting, Archer-san."

"_Not your business. Go home, get a job. Heroism doesn't pay the bills._"

"Then I will have to assume one or both of you has an unacceptable desire for the Grail and thus are enemies until I get an answer," the boy stated, somehow squeezing ice into his tone despite speaking so quietly. Archer could hear him start walking away from the wall and heading back towards the city proper.

'_So now he's taken a side against us… great._' While he doubted he would try something in broad daylight, he now had a confirmed sniper watching for them who knew their faces.

School let out barely two minutes later, and crowds of students quickly scattered from the gates to Archer's left. He watched warily when the black ghost withdrew something from her robes… a phone? '_What the hell? Since when do ghosts use cell phones?_'

Using the crowd of students as cover, he crossed the campus towards his Master, honing on their connection and passing through every wall in his way once he was out of the spirit girl's sight. As they had planned, he found the two magi in the library, Shirou at the computer with a phonebook next to him, and Rin leaning over his shoulder.

Despite typical magi ineptitude in using technology, Shirou had a rudimentary knowledge of computers, at least to the point where he could use them for simple tasks. He never got much practice at it though, and his personal interests limited his use for the contraptions. This knowledge allowed him to scan through a few public records and locate the name of "Ichigo Kurosaki" outside of Fuyuki. The name was thankfully not common by any stretch, almost completely unique.

Between the name and his distinct orange hair, it took only a relatively short time (though still well over an hour) for the largely computer-illiterate pair to confirm the existence of a student in Karakura Town that matched their enemy perfectly, right down to the scowl and frown he wore. He even shared classes with Yasutora Sado, which only heightened their suspicions. From there, it was easy enough to find out that the Kurosaki family lived in a clinic run by the father. There was even an address and phone number for it in the phonebook Rin had found. For a magus family, serving as a practicing physician of any kind was usually a terribly poor cover. More likely the boy was new blood or a psychic rather than a formal magus.

"This is too easy. We can even call his house right now if we wanted! It's like he didn't _care_ we would find out this much," Tohsaka pointed out warily.

"_He probably didn't. This is the Holy Grail War and he is a powerful Master. He likely doesn't expect anyone he meets to walk away alive,_" Archer hypothesized.

Shirou continued the Servant's line of thought without missing a beat. Had he stopped and thought about it, it would have creeped him out. "On top of that, he has some kind of mystery that renders him similar to a spirit, so most wouldn't even see him to begin with. If he wasn't busy saving his Servant, he could have easily killed us both if he wanted."

Rin brought a hand to her mouth in thought. "It's a pretty much unheard of branch of thaumaturgy, I'll admit: the closest under traditional schools is astral projection, but that prevents interference with the physical completely in exchange for the spirit form's mobility."

"So what do we do? Call up the Kurosaki family and see if they know why their son is all the way out here?" Shirou asked.

"Not right now. He would've at least convinced them he was going to be busy here or hypnotized them if he could. He must be feeling secure in his position since leaving Fuyuki isn't really an option for most involved. We can try if we can come up with a reasonable excuse later, though," Rin mused.

"At least we know he isn't using a fake-" Shirou cut himself off, eyes wide from the strange sensations invading his senses.

"Hm? Emiya-kun, what's wrong?" Rin asked upon noticing.

Instead of replying, Shirou jumped to his feet and faced the door of the library. Without a word, he slowly walked through it and looked down the hall. A pace behind him, Archer passed through the wall and faced the same way.

There, standing at the end of the hall between them and the stairs out, indigo eyes alternating between them both, was that samurai girl in black.

"_I knew it,_" Archer muttered.

* * *

In the time she had been his Servant and walked through his memories, Rider felt she had started to figure out the subtle nuances in her Master's scowls and what they meant for his mood. She realized that years of using it as his default expression had given the many slight variations in it significant meaning instead of showing his more subtle emotions openly. Aside from rare moments, most of Ichigo's emotions were kept off his face by said scowl and frown.

For instance, the minute change in the angle of his furrowed brow and slightly lifted chin marked him as deep in thought. Even if he had stated that he was overlooking her past in favor of the present, Ichigo still had a lot of information to digest in the privacy of his own mind. So did she for that matter, but Rider was more intent on watching for threats while her Master's attention was occupied. Naturally, she had accompanied her Master out of the penthouse when he wanted some fresh air.

At the moment, there was a chance Archer would strike from across town or Assassin making an attempt from the shadows, but given Shinto's morning bustle neither seemed likely to happen.

Just as they did every time they went into public, the pair drew many curious glances for their chromatic hair. Rider had opted to wear a copy of her normal glamour Orihime had bought for her: dark denim jeans, black casual shoes and a black turtleneck sweater. The Breaker Gorgon was once more magically hidden as a pair of glasses. Walking around town, Ichigo had only stopped briefly at the edge of a crowd to watch the police continue to sweep up the glass from last night's skirmish. He didn't like making mistakes when it came to others, even if nothing came of those mistakes. Whatever shaped his combat view left him with a large perfectionist streak regarding outside involvement. He literally did not want any normal human to be aware of his battles, living happy lives completely ignorant of the spiritual side of reality. In that sense he was like a magus, just more merciful than the standard by leagues.

Idly, Medusa wondered if similar mindsets had anything to do with some heroes not being taken into the Throne of Heroes throughout history. If a theoretical heroic figure did not seek fame and avoided revealing their existence well enough, they would not be remembered enough to ascend to that legendary status regardless of their deeds, or even have those deeds ascribed to another.

By now the pair had been walking for over an hour, and it was close to noon. Rider had sensed nothing worth noting in the late morning, not even the crawling itch on her skin of a Hollow's appearance. Part of her was bored even through the tension she felt in this short interlude of quiet. That part of her that wasn't on constant alert for battle was regretting not taking along one of her books. Rider and Ichigo had ended up in the middle of one of the more popular parks in Fuyuki, and reading under the shade of a tree on this clear winter day sounded like a wonderful way to snatch a few hours of peace. Not that she could allow herself to_ completely_ relax, of course.

"Rider," Ichigo called to her suddenly. He turned to face her, hands in his pockets and head tilted forward almost aggressively. "I think we need to find a place for a quick match."

Bemused by the serious tone of her Master, the Servant simply tilted her head to the side slightly, saying nothing. Without her mask, though, the fact that she had raised an eyebrow was also visible.

Ichigo looked towards the winter sky for a moment before looking back at his Servant. "I've been going about this the wrong way. I'm not a normal guy who can figure people out just by talking a few times. Maybe it's because of the way my soul is, but in a fight I can learn more about a person in twenty seconds than in ten months."

"What do you mean?" Having little to no experience as a real warrior, Rider was not familiar with some of the more spiritual aspects of swordplay beyond the fact that many schools enforced meditation and discipline.

She couldn't see the hot-headed Ichigo ascribing to those concepts very easily.

"It's… a talent. It's kinda hard to explain, but if someone fights me hard enough I can sorta… see into their hearts when our blades cross," the teen said haltingly, unsure if the words he was using made any sense. "It takes a bit for me to sort it all out, though."

"I see. Were we not in the middle of such a tenuous balance with the other Masters, I would agree to try if that was your order. As it is, there is too much a risk of drawing attention," Rider would have said more but something… unusual tickled the edge of her senses. "Ichigo, there is something coming, likely a Hollow attempting to enter this world covertly. I will deal with it."

"Go on ahead. If you need it I'll back you up." Ichigo's trust in his Servant's intentions was practically reflexive at this point, and Rider had already walked into an alley and out of sight before he even considered expanding his senses to follow her progress. It wasn't as though sensing was a skill he had put much of his focus on developing before anyway.

This time though, the moment his spiritual awareness picked up on what Rider had undoubtedly sensed he visibly paled. "Oh DAMN!" he turned and ran after his Servant. He needed someplace to stash his body or he might not arrive in time to stop her even if she was taking her time.

The spiritual pressure he sensed did not belong to a Hollow at all.

About three blocks from Rider and Ichigo, a particular back alley was set behind a less heavily-trafficked area of Shinto, and the buildings here were unkempt and dirty compared to the white-washed cleanness of the modern district it sat behind. At night the alley would be pitch-black even on the clearest nights. Before what was once the back door to a now-defunct antique shop, a brief surge of spirit energy created a tunnel linking this world with the next. Forming out of thin air, the circle of space warped into a pair of _shoji_ doors emanating a pure white light from within. With a slight grinding of aged wood, the doors parted to allow two forms to pass into the human realm.

"Alright, we made it. Now we just gotta find one of 'em," the taller of the two announced. Fishing through his bag, he pulled out a folded map of the city. A small red dot marked where they had emerged and a particular building near central Shinto was circled. Various other small notes were scrawled in a few places, and several referenced information found elsewhere in his supplies.

"Could we… hurry a little, Lieutenant? I don't like the feel of this place." The smaller figure asked meekly.

The tall one looked up from his map and frowned contemplatively before nodding. "Neither do I. Come on, we got a key; we'll ambush 'em in the room they're all staying at," he said with a toothy grin.

A soft serpentine hiss barely gave them any warning of the danger they were suddenly in. "Lieutenant! Above you!" the small one cried out, barely in time to catch the man's attention.

Acting on well-honed reflexes, the taller one didn't bother looking for the enemy right away, instead diving for cover behind a dumpster just as a dark fang of steel impaled the space his head once was. For the brief instant the weapon was still, he got a good look at the nail-like dagger linked to an extremely long chain.

The moment they had used the word "ambush," Rider made a snap decision and attacked, her fake glasses shifting back into the Breaker Gorgon. Thanks to her masterful control of her weapon, Rider's chain dagger had come down from the air at practically at the same time she landed behind the smaller boy. Her decoy worked perfectly, forcing the two to separate and leaving Rider an easy opening to reach the almost forgettable figure. He had no time to react before her second chain looped around his body three times and she kicked him into the wall beside him with her strength carefully modulated. She had no intention of killing both of them, and the smaller, timid boy would likely give away information after a suitable display of brutality on the other. He would be dazed for a few moments from the look of things, though.

"Hanataro!" The taller man shouted before glaring menacingly at Rider "Who the hell are you? One of those 'Serva-'" his voice cut off from Rider's foot driving the wind from his lungs. Tellingly, he had already started reacting in that split second in response. His reflexes were outright superhuman. As if that wasn't enough, his body radiated energy that had a feral quality to it. Before he could recover from the kick, Rider wrapped her free chain in a loop over her target's torso to pin his arms to his sides before looping it again around his throat.

With her targets restrained, Rider leaped upward and dragged her chosen victim into the air behind her. Her chain hooked over a fire escape ladder and she dropped in front of her target's face and her feet sticking to the wall of the building behind her, leaving her target dangling several feet off the ground. "You know about the Servants. Worse, you have ill intent towards those under my protection. Your life ends here."

She had just drawn back her dagger when she picked up the telltale pull of her Master's presence enter the alley through their contract.

"Rider, STOP!" Ichigo desperately roared. In response, he felt a heat rise from his hand along with a shining red light that quickly dimmed. Instantly his Servant's dagger stopped, less than a centimeter from her target's eye. Only the fact that Rider had stopped and waited to watch had given Ichigo the time he needed to catch up even after he dropped his body under a tree, looking for all the world like he was napping in the sunny weather.

He cast a slight glance at his right hand and bit out a curse: one of the three petals, the one facing his wrist, had lost its luster, now nothing more than a darkened wedge of skin. "Damn it! I never wanted to use any of those!"

Rider lowered her weapon and turned to face her Master, her body rebelling slightly against the Command Seal's hold while the compulsion bled out. In about ten seconds she would have full control of her body again. "Why did you stop me, Master?"

Taking a moment to regain his composure, Ichigo gestured to the chained pair. "Those aren't enemies. Let them go. _Gently_," he clarified, his tone still a little sharper than he wanted. "Those are allies: Soul Reapers."

With a slight motion of Rider's hand, the chains loosened enough to allow the choking redhead to breathe deeply right as his feet felt the concrete. "What the hell was all that, Ichigo?" he coughed. Stepping into the light, the figure looked ready to punch Ichigo's face in. He only stopped when Rider stepped between the two boys, her expression empty behind her mask.

The young man had sharp, narrow eyes set in an angular, thin face. His hair, a red so rich it looked dyed, was tied back tightly into a rough ponytail and a white bandanna wrapped around his forehead. If he were clad in a yukata or a suit, he would scream "yakuza" effortlessly. However, he was going casual, dressed in a long-sleeved yellow sweatshirt with a brown leather jacket thrown over it, a patch of a stylized black flower -a camellia- on the left shoulder. His blue jeans were obviously new, and a length of chain looped up from his pocket. His shoes were simple white sneakers. Overall, the figure looked like a young thug trying to change his image for the better.

Recognition was instantaneous for Ichigo. "_Renji_?"

"Who'd you _think_ they'd send when Rukia asked for reinforcements? And _who_ the _hell_ is this crazy woman?" Renji Abarai demanded, glaring accusingly at his blindfolded attacker.

Ichigo crossed his arms and fought off the urge to snap at the lieutenant Soul Reaper's tone. "My Servant, Rider. As for what happened, you mind telling me?" Ichigo sent a meaningful look at the tall woman, whose blindfold flickered for a second before resuming its illusionary form, and she stood down.

"When this one and his companion appeared, I decided to watch them since they were not Hollows or Servants. This 'Renji' expressed a desire to ambush us in the penthouse. I acted rather than put you and yours at risk."

"Hang on, you saw me fight Byakuya and never saw Renji?" Ichigo had to suppress a laugh at his friend's expense, tension all but gone from his posture aside from what he normally carried. Zangetsu must have decided that Renji's fights with him weren't as significant as Byakuya's or whatever else he showed her. At least Rider's reaction made sense given what he knew of her character. He just wasn't quite expecting Rider to be so _violently_ protective of him and his friends so quickly.

Then again, Ichigo would and did react rather violently to someone threatening Rider, too.

"Huh?" Renji's confusion temporarily overcame his anger.

Ichigo shook his head. "It's a long story. Where's the other guy you brought with you?"

The lieutenant bared his teeth slightly at Rider for a second before warily turning away from her and returning to the shadows of the alley. "Oi, Hanataro! You okay?"

"Y-yeah, I think so. Nothing's broken at least…" the second Soul Reaper mumbled, shuffling into the light with Renji a few seconds later. Scuffed but unhurt per Rider's intent, it was almost shocking just how _forgettable_ the black-haired boy was. His features were neither particularly ugly nor particularly attractive and, along with the straight black hair, the somewhat drab blue long-sleeved shirt and khaki pants, he could completely disappear in a crowd as just another face, especially compared to Renji.

"Hanataro Yamada? You came too? It's been a while. You alright?" Ichigo found it pleasant to see a pair of recognizable faces at a time like this, despite the circumstances.

"I-It's okay Kurosaki-san. My gigai is pretty good."

"Good. You'll need every saving grace you can get." Ichigo nodded in relief and approval. "Anyone else coming?"

"'Anyone else?' Seriously Ichigo, we've got a seated officer, an unseated one who's strong enough to keep up with the lieutenants, a bunch of humans about as strong and two Captain-level Soul Reapers. What more do you need?" Renji replied, exasperated.

"About twelve different attacks capable of dropping an Espada in one shot, preferably."

"…You're joking." Renji had read a general overview of Rukia's reports when he was briefed and he had a compiled estimation of the known Servants' strengths in his bag (he hadn't had the chance to read it in detail yet, though), but hearing Ichigo's dead serious comment was still unnerving in the extreme.

"I wish. And that's if we're lucky and they all surpass the needed rank in the system the Servants are bound to. These guys don't play by our rules." Just thinking about how to beat Berserker for good when that stupid Noble Phantasm of his was active gave Ichigo a headache.

Renji rubbed his chin at that. "Oh yeah, I remember there being some kind of ranking system thingy going on. We need to sit down and get up to speed with you guys."

"I can explain some of the basic stuff on the way to my body. We're all meeting for lunch, so we'll go over what you know and anything new we figured out." Excluding Rider's real name of course.

Throughout the entire exchange Rider had watched the newcomers silently, gauging their abilities and demeanor and how it affected her Master. Renji had a similar disposition to Ichigo to the point that they could pass for relatives. The other, Hanataro, was as unobtrusive as could be, but he trusted Ichigo to the point of not guarding against him. In fact he was only genuinely nervous towards Rider, a completely understandable response.

The four made their way back to the park and Ichigo returned to his body. On the way, Renji Abarai and Hanataro Yamada were more fully introduced, though Rider pointed out their presence likely wasn't going to change things aside from the healer's possible contributions in a pinch. As she put it, "Strength in numbers only matters if those numbers are able to avoid instant death."

Naturally Renji wasn't exactly thrilled with Rider's dismissal of his abilities and also suspicious of how relaxed his human friend was around a woman he only knew for about a week. Renji made a mental note to have the team's heads checked for mental manipulation from the suspicious –if very attractive- woman. His pride also stung from how easily Rider had put him at her almost nonexistent mercy. Next chance he got he would show her not to underestimate a Soul Reaper just because they had standard operating procedures to follow.

* * *

"Tohsaka, thirty feet, straight ahead in the middle of the hallway. She's not moving." Only thirty feet. For a reasonably competent magus, it might as well have been ten. For a Servant, it was a negligible distance. From what Shirou remembered from the wraith-girl's performance against the masked monster, she was somewhere between the two: faster than a magus, slower than a Servant.

Rin followed the eyes of her ally and her Servant, but saw nothing there. "Great, just what we need. Is it him again?"

"_No, it's the girl from earlier. Looks like she's in contact with Kurosaki or that white archer,_" the Servant explained quickly, gliding forward carefully to the front of their little group.

Watching them all carefully for the slightest twitch, Rukia's wintery spiritual pressure started to expand the moment the translucent Servant moved. The red Servant, Archer according to Uryu's description, was expected but problematic nonetheless. Considering how powerful the rest of the known Servants were, she wasn't about to try and fight the hawkeyed warrior if she could help it, especially in the narrow confines of a school hall. The longer the standoff lasted, the lower the temperature around her dropped. It was a comforting cold, a sensation that she put out when tensed to fight a strong enemy.

It was that cold sensation that had alerted Shirou to her presence to begin with along with the phantom scent of a pine forest in midwinter. When detecting foreign sources of magical power, sensitive people translated magical energy into phantom sensations, and Shirou sensed such energies as smells. This was nothing new. What really set him off was the return of the heaviness in the air he felt from Kurosaki, though at a far lower magnitude.

Both sides were tense, waiting for the slightest shift to make their move. Rin silently weighed her options. The main school building was probably empty by now, but the tiny number of students and faculty still milling around the other campus buildings was still too many for a self-respecting magus to cut loose. There was no easy way to empty those buildings or lock down this one without drawing more attention either. She was also relying heavily on both Archer and Shirou's senses for this, which impacted her effectiveness significantly.

The seemingly endless stare-down lasted for only a handful of seconds before Rin's words broke the standoff. "Archer, I'll leave her fate to your judgment." The instant her decision was made, Archer materialized and rushed to meet the girl, a white hatchet-like sword in his right hand. Rin meanwhile wasted no time grabbing Shirou's wrist and started pulling him back towards the further stairwell.

Rukia burst into a charge, drawing her own sword while a barely-audible incantation rolled off her tongue. The moment they would have reached striking distance with each other, she turned her next step into a Shunpo, intending to leave the Servant hitting air and too startled to react in time to her spell. She slipped back into her natural stride several yards away from the red Servant's last position. "With light, divide this into six! Bakudo 61: Rikujokoro!" she bellowed, pointing two fingers at Archer.

The spell was too slow.

Though it was an extremely powerful binding spell capable of paralyzing all but the most powerful souls, Rikujokoro was tricky to use in most cases. It did not automatically home in on a person, but rather a general region of space the caster was focused on. It worked best on slow but powerful targets to buy a few seconds for a stronger attack. Only the most powerful captains like Byakuya Kuchiki had the skills to use it in heated combat reliably, and even then it usually required a distracted or predictable target. Normally Rukia would not have used such a powerful spell right off the bat, but given Rider's natural ability to shrug off weak spells, Rukia went with one significantly stronger in case Archer had a similar ability.

Rukia's eyes widened and her sword barely came up in time to block Archer's attack at the same time a flash of golden light marked the Kido's collapse behind him. Her Shunpo had done absolutely nothing to buy her even an instant of clearance from Archer. He had kept pace with her despite needing to completely reverse his direction, allowing him to dodge the Bakudo without giving Rukia room to breathe.

The hallway was only about eight feet wide, just enough space for two swordsmen to swing their blades at full extension and not mar the walls from the middle of the hall. While far, far stronger than her slight appearance suggested, Rukia was not arrogant enough to think she could stand up to Archer in a contest of strength and lashed out with short, quick thrusts and slashes to force Archer back. The ring of steel on steel filled the hallway like harsh music, interrupted only by the squeak of Archer's boots and the scratching of Rukia's straw sandals on the tile floor as they shifted positions.

In Archer's perspective, Rukia was similar to Saber in terms of size but fought in an entirely different method. She did not charge in or smash her target with powerful strikes, she danced to the pace set by their movements and aimed for crippling attacks with the occasional killing blow thrown in seemingly at random. In his vast experience, these kinds of foes were at their most dangerous during the first dozen exchanges. If a swordsman lasted long enough to find the pattern in their actions and reactions, they became far easier to handle. Thus, Archer made sure to steadily up his speed and power and stick close to his "dance partner" until he found her unconscious rhythm.

For a warrior summoned for his skills with a bow, Archer's sword skills were monstrous, far greater than Rukia's own abilities. For a few moments and countless slashes, thrusts and parries, Rukia's defenses held against the Servant's attacks, her nimble body slipping away from any attack she wouldn't risk trying to block. Liberal uses of Shunpo kept her constantly just out of reach, but Archer's eyes never lost track of her and he pursued relentlessly. He constantly cut her off when she tried to disengage to a more open battlefield.

What few attacks she managed to make were easily read and deflected, the heavy-bladed sword switching between normal and reverse grip with the agility of a dagger in Archer's hands. Even with her increased focus on improving her swordsmanship in recent months, Rukia barely had any chances to attack against the finely tuned machine that was Archer's bladework.

Then a black sword joined the onslaught from his previously empty left hand, and that machine became an engine of destruction.

Beneath the constant assault and without a single instant to regain her composure, Rukia's defenses were slowly picked apart, and the petite Reaper had a feeling Archer was only exerting as much effort as he felt necessary rather than his full ability. She slid back from turning aside a slash aimed at her right shoulder only to feel her left leg burn from the white sword skirting the top of her thigh. This in turn weakened her stance when the black sword blurred around and hammered her right side, the zanpakutou barely managed to block the impact. Fiery agony shot through her leg from the strain resisting the warrior's rain of strikes put on her while another clean slice opened down her forearm, nearly scratching bone. The twin swords constantly crisscrossed and swept around in twining arcs that created a seemingly endless barrage without a single opening. It was not truly an elegant or formal style, but it was efficient and honed to perfection.

She needed some distance, badly. "Hado 33: Soukatsui!" she barked, wincing slightly from using her injured arm for the task and parrying two attempts to lop her hand off, but Rukia's spiritual power burned into a bright blue-white ball in her palm that fired point-blank into her attacker's… crossed swords. The man's combat reflexes were maddening! Still, the resulting explosion of spirit fire threw him back several paces, finally breaking the two fighters apart long enough for Rukia to catch her breath.

The entire fight so far had only taken twenty seconds.

Icy spiritual pressure was already starting to act as both icepack and bandage over her wounds, sealing the worst of them. It was a trick most users of ice-type zanpakutou picked up once they built up their spirit energy. Their sword's powers, hot or cold, would never hurt the properly trained.

"Now that I have your undivided attention, miss, I think it's time you started actually talking. What exactly are you after?" Archer's swords and the edges of his cloak were still smoking from the blast, but he himself was unharmed despite being thrown back by it. The spell felt strange, like it wasn't entirely real, but it certainly slammed into his Magic Resistance (reinforced by Kanshou and Bakuya) well enough. It was just as well in his mind; the girl was definitely something he had never seen before. The fact that he was making a ghost _bleed_ definitely confused him, and he wanted at least some information before he killed or captured her.

Archer honestly wasn't sure if he could count himself lucky with this encounter. As it was the girl was nowhere near as dangerous as he feared, but still stronger and much faster than Rin. That trick that let her change how much ground she covered in the space of one step was pretty novel and, by extension in a fight, annoying. During their initial exchange he had quickly found her sword skills decent but nothing special. She was obviously trained and had some experience but lacked real talent in that area. He wasn't terribly surprised when she fired spells to compensate.

Rukia was never one for banter during a fight, remaining coolly professional the moment she committed herself to one. This was no exception. She could however respect Archer's equal focus and cutting straight to the heart of the matter. "I'm a Soul Reaper. It is my duty to protect the souls of the living and the dead. The Holy Grail War and its participants are a threat to the balance between them unless they each prove themselves otherwise."

"…You _can't_ be serious." Archer deadpanned.

Seeing her using the moment of calm to reset her stance, the red knight flung both swords at the diminutive girl, Projected his bow and notched an arrow of barely-contained magical energy. He was a ruthless pragmatist in battle, and he wasn't about to let the self-proclaimed Soul Reaper have a chance to use any form of offensive magic from this distance.

The short Soul Reaper watched the twin blades spinning like razor discs towards her and hastily ran through her options. Their slightly curved flight path would make it difficult to dodge both in such narrow confines, and she didn't have time to set up a Hakuren before they would slice her to pieces. She attempted to dive to the side and escape through the window but found several arrows of energy cutting her off at speeds that reduced them to almost laser-like beams to her eyes. Her only recourse was to throw herself back into a Shunpo and plant her back against the wall to let the two swords pass. Archer had already corrected his aim in that time, and with his firing rate and accuracy she had nowhere to run. '_The arrow would pierce her right lung between the third and fourth rib,_' he decided, and let fly.

Rukia's expression didn't change beyond the slight grimace from being cornered in the first place. It was like he could see the future with how he set things up! She wasn't about to give the warrior the satisfaction of seeing her squirm, though: she still had an advantage Archer lacked right now:

Support.

Blue light building in his peripheral was the only warning Archer got before the windows beside him fell apart beneath a barrage of cross-like arrows set in a wide but precise spray, knocking the arrow from the air before it reached the girl. Dozens more arrows homed in on Archer's position, forcing him to back off and slip out of his firing stance.

Glancing out the window, the white-haired warrior found that the bespectacled teen from before had taken position on a rooftop across the street. The moment Archer noticed him, the black-haired bowman shot towards the building on that panel of blue light he favored. To an ordinary human, the boy's speed would have rendered him practically invisible. At least he wasn't wearing that eye-searing white outfit from the other night or Archer would have felt compelled to murder him on principle. The swift spirit hunter passed through a broken window on the opposite side of Archer from his ghost ally and halted with practiced control and ease.

Despite the split in his focus, Archer did see a second blur sheathed in magical energy barrel through another shattered window and come to halt with a heavy thud between him and the small girl. It was easy to recognize the towering figure: Yasutora Sado had joined the fray. His massive body cut off easy access to the injured Soul Reaper and his right arm was now covered in a black and red material. The back of his lower arm had a large flat plate of this material in the form of a shield the size of a manhole cover. The red skull design emblazoned there was more than a little ominous, but seemed out of character considering the aura of stability and defense Sado projected.

'_Where are you people coming from?_' Archer seethed silently, already holding a newly formed pair of his choice weapons. "This is getting ridiculous." Archer adjusted his guard, exposing lethal holes in his own defenses. "Let's hurry up and get this over with."


	23. Witch Hunt Part III: Bloody Mad Skirmish

AN: Well, this wasn't what I had in mind when I told myself I'd hammer out another chapter sooner than the last… To be honest this chapter never did hit that nice stride that I prefer when I write until just recently. I kept trying to force it out earlier but found that I just couldn't accept what I was writing as good enough or right. Even now I'm sure I could find more things to tweak (and might edit in later), but not only have I kept you all waiting long enough, but right now I'm literally nitpicking to the point I'm wondering if something is trying to get me to stop writing this monster entirely.

…For obvious reasons, I won't let such a concept stand.

Instead I decided to extend a sequence I originally skipped over, move my intended chapter end to the next chapter's beginning and move on. I have so much to cover still and I want to finish this story and damn anyone who tries to stop me!

Thank you all for your continued patience and for being a great audience. I'll try my best to provide everyone an entertaining story even if I can't meet everyone's desires or answer every little detail through the course of the story. I promise you I do have an ending in mind and a hopefully spectacular finish worthy of both franchises.

**Edit: To all readers, I have edited this chapter after numerous, numerous PMs and reviews pointing out flaws that I made with this chapter, particularly with how I handled Rukia's encounter. Do not be alarmed if it feels like you missed something. I will be working to make this story as excellent as I can (with any luck, people will still be able to enjoy this fic without me having to butcher too too much), so bear with me while I iron out the kinks.**

_Witch Hunt Part III: Bloody Mad Skirmish_

"So tell me, have you tried these techniques on anyone in a competition before?" Bazett asked lightly while kicking her leg out low.

"Nah, Sensei told me to keep my karate separate," Tatsuki managed to grunt as she hopped back and tried to parry her sparring partner's follow-up punch. "Helps me keep up with the basics since school keeps me from training with her more." Besides that, school competitions had their own strict regulations about improvised or non-traditional techniques. Hakuda was definitely _not_ a form of karate.

The two had started their spar only a short time ago, having met up close to eleven in the morning. Orihime apologized profusely for the perceived delay she was afraid she caused, but Bazett waved it off, having claimed a late night working making her sleep in.

Bazett had taken the opportunity to subtly interrogate the two girls further, and was pleased to find that, while far from stupid, they were letting their guards down very slightly around her. It was obvious to the experienced Enforcer that they were still warily holding something back, but she was careful not to pry too quickly. Besides, it wasn't as if she really expected them to let the truth slip to her. She just needed to be close enough to work her way in now that she knew they were involved in the War, at least indirectly.

"Odd. Most teachers would either want you to show your skills openly or ask you to quit practicing other disciplines entirely," Bazett commented after resetting her stance.

Tatsuki shrugged as she started circling the older woman. "Sensei's weird like that. I trust her, though. She's had a lot more practice at this style than me. If she says I can keep going to competitions for a while longer, I will."

"Fair enough."

"Do your best, Tatsuki-chan! Keep it up, Bazett-san!" Orihime cheered from the edge of the room, all smiles. Though not a fighter herself, Orihime did have some practice in karate and enjoyed watching her best friend have fun with her passion.

"Pick a side and stick with it!" Tatsuki laughed even as she scrambled to her feet after falling into another of Bazett's feints. It would have been frustrating if she wasn't having so much fun overall.

Orihime stuck her tongue out. "Take her down, Bazett-san!"

The smaller of the two fighters couldn't help but stumble at that. "Hey!"

For a few minutes more, the pair exchanged blows in the gym's studio room, enjoying the experience of fighting someone that could appreciate the art of combat without trying to kill them in the process. Bazett was somewhat bewildered by the extreme acrobatics Tatsuki used while still retaining a great deal of power in her strikes. Tatsuki was just awed by how accurate and quick Bazett was no matter how hard she hit or what angle she defended herself at.

The spar ended again in Bazett's favor, and the two sat to catch their breath. In truth, neither was terribly winded at all, but appearances needed to be kept. "Man, you're really tough! You do any competitions?" Tatsuki asked.

Bazett chose her words carefully but with experienced ease and speed. "No, most of my training is personal, not really a formal style. If anything, it's illegal in any competition aside from Mixed Martial Arts tournaments, and I don't have time for that kind of thing."

"That's too bad. Anyone good enough to beat Tatsuki has to be on the national level easy," Orihime observed.

"Thank you, but I guess I never thought about competing," Bazett smiled at the likeable pair before drinking from her water bottle. "My family was really traditional, so getting to travel and making something of myself was what I was really after more than fighting."

"Martial arts don't exactly pay by the hour, I hear ya," Tatsuki replied with a sympathetic grin.

"So what have you been up to since we last met, Bazett-san?" Orihime added, her earnest, kind expression making the Enforcer a little uncomfortable.

"Oh, this and that. My employers told me the other day that someone's stealing company property, so I'm trying to juggle that while looking into some… odd paperwork," Bazett managed to say, acting the company woman trying not to bore her companions with work talk.

Thankfully, the two younger women seemed to fall for it. "Sounds boring."

"Tatsuki-chan!" Orihime looked mildly abashed by Tatsuki's bluntness.

"Sometimes it is. But the payoff's worth it," Bazett admitted with a sisterly smile and patted her acquaintance's shoulder.

Leaving a tiny rune sequence stamped on her shirt.

* * *

"Tohsaka, where are we going?" Shirou asked while tailing his fellow Master down to the first floor. The samurai girl was dangerous, but there was no way she could fight a Servant, considering what he knew about their abilities. That samurai wasn't even remotely as powerful as Kurosaki had felt on the rooftop. "Shouldn't we be up there helping?"

Rin stopped at the base of the stairwell and faced her ally sternly. "We'd just get in the way. It's too narrow a battleground for most of my stronger magic, and I've got another idea anyway. I'll need that weird sense of yours for it to work, though."

To a degree, that alone was a relief for the redhead; he really was sick and tired of running away. He had been for days, but...

His thoughts were interrupted by more sensations entering his range and speeding right for the school. "More of them?" he half-growled, half-groaned.

"Can you tell anything about them from here?" Rin asked, once again on the move as she planned.

Shirou answered quickly, wracking his brain for words to put to what his "seventh" sense was telling him. His sixth sense was his magical sensitivity, which overlapped with his new talents, but was still distinct. "One of them feels… familiar. Solid, almost like a moving wall of stone... The other is something else. I can't get much of a fix on it."

Rin nodded but said nothing, rifling through her pockets and pulling out a small golden gemstone, one of her weaker gems. After a quick motion of her finger, she fired the jewel with a tiny surge of prana, imbedding it into the ceiling several meters down the first year hallway. "I have an idea to even the field a bit. Can you sense where they are from here?"

Shirou concentrated for a moment before nodding, his expression focusing on the ceiling. "They're all tense up there. What's the plan?"

"I have enough prana stored in that topaz to drop the ceiling for three meters. When Archer has space and at least one of those guys is over it, tell me and we'll take their feet out from under them. If it doesn't kill them it'll at least give Archer a chance to finish up in the confusion."

As focused as he was on his role, Shirou still made a heavily emphasized mental note to not anger Tohsaka enough to have one of those jewels turned on him. "Alright. Get ready."

Archer knew that he was on the clock before reinforcements arrived, but even his most generous estimations fell short of how fast they would get here. He was actually a bit impressed by whatever system they used to react so quickly with no overt communication. Telepathy, maybe?

Despite the conviction behind earlier Rukia's words, Archer didn't believe for one _second_ that she and her friends were fighting in the War out of idealistic nonsense like "protecting human souls" or whatever they used to justify their actions. People screwed up in the head enough to devote themselves to such a task were too rare and suicidal to form a strong organization.

If there really was such a group, the Mages' Association, the Church, or a Dead Apostle Ancestor would either kill them all or control them as pawns before they made any real difference in the world.

The more actively involved you got with the world of magic, the harder it worked to grind you to dust or make you fall into line with its major factions. It was far more likely that the girl's words were a cover for something significantly more self-serving.

More to the point, if there really were groups interested in such altruistic intentions, what could possibly bring them to this ritual over other possible dangers out there? Why weren't they killing and being killed by Dead Apostles and demons left, right and center? _**Where the hell were they at the end of the Fourth War?**_

It didn't matter in the end he supposed, and he reined in his anger. Any loss they took would hurt their chances of interfering further. They were extremely strong by human standards, but nothing else; they had shown nothing so far that warranted his cooperation and the headaches it would likely bring him. Archer quietly moved "surrender" towards the bottom of his options, somewhere just above "dying."

"You alright?" Chad rumbled back at Rukia, his attention trained exclusively on Archer. He dare not turn away from this warrior. The slightest lapse in awareness could well kill him. For the moment it looked like Archer was not going to attack and Rukia used it to regain her center and stance before replying.

"Yeah, thanks. Be careful; this guy is good. Very good. Ishida didn't do him justice."

Chad didn't reply, summoning the white armor of the _Brazo Izquierda del Diablo_ over his left arm. Unlike with Lancer, Chad had no intention of remaining idle as a shield over someone. He needed to keep on the move and attack. In these relatively narrow halls, his wide-area _El Directo_ could completely decide the outcome if he timed it right.

Rukia briefly considered her position: her iced-over injuries were numb and somewhat patched but far from treated. Archer had picked her apart far too easily, and in these halls she had very little room to contribute in the fight now that Chad and Uryu were both here. Hakuren and Tsukishiro were powerful, but required more room than a narrow hall to work without trapping her own allies, to say nothing of any counters Archer might have. Much like Hollow hunting, Rukia knew that the best option was to go for the head of the Master-Servant pairing to guarantee victory. "Do you think you two can handle him?"

"Mm. Do what you need to." Chad honestly had no real idea how well he'd fair against Archer, but Uryu had his back and there were other matters to attend to, like the Master and any possible bystanders not already evacuated and calling the police. Fortunately the place was empty due to the curfew and it being a Saturday. If it wasn't… the Soul Reaper had the tools to deal with the stragglers non-lethally.

Rukia nodded and slipped into a Shunpo, hoping to catch up with the magi before they got too far, leaving her two friends to face the Servant.

They knew that this fight was not going to be a walk in the park. Even Archer was wary of the unknowns the pair presented.

Uryu watched the twin swords in Archer's grip and fought the urge to critique his stance. There was a hole in his guard that left a critical point exposed. He couldn't fathom why someone as skilled and intelligent as the red knight would have such a glaring weakness on display, but he doubted it was because Archer was particularly suicidal. He was taunting them, apparently confident enough in his power and skill to give them a tempting target.

"I'll be blunt. If your goal is to put a stop to the Holy Grail War, you're not exactly doing a very good job of it," Archer said while shifting his focus between the two.

Uryu's frown tightened. "It seems to me that the Servants are even worse about ending the matter, hiding and feeding on human souls or killing bystanders."

"It's not personal. It's just the way this thing works." Archer had to physically suppress the urge to sigh at the repeated justification. From both sides, if were honest.

"So we've heard. It's still unacceptable and not necessary for you. We will kill you if we have to."

Archer glanced at Uryu briefly, the experience of decades of non-stop bloodshed behind his steel-gray eyes. "You're strong, I'll admit. But from what I've seen none of you are anywhere _near_ good enough to pull that threat off." Archer knew they had the potential to kill him, but he doubted these kids were experienced enough or ruthless enough to overcome him. He had total faith that Rin would call him if she needed him, too. "_I am the bone of my sword_."

Archer's two foes made note of that last phrase. It _resonated_ through Archer and hardened his spiritual pressure strangely, but neither could place exactly what it meant.

Looking back on it, no one involved would be able to say with 100% certainty who made the first move, or if everyone simply exploded into motion on the same cue. The still hallway erupted into a mix of rushing wind, metallic clangs, crumbling concrete, shattering glass and concussive booms.

Swords of white and black spun through the air, copies of Archer's favored blades deflected in every direction whenever he threw them and a new pair ready in his hands practically at the same instant he released the previous set. They never touched their targets through the precision shooting of the Quincy and his rapid-fire bow. Chad's mighty fists crashed into Archer's blades relentlessly, heedless of taking the openings Archer left for him in favor of battering his defenses with the fury of an artillery bombardment.

This put Archer in a bizarre position. Unlike many Servants, Archer had no real ego as a warrior, but was a cautious and crafty fighter willing to use every trick in the book to win if he had to.

The phrase "if it bleeds, it can be killed" applied to more than just ordinary humans, after all.

A life of battle had often put Archer at the forefront of heavily outnumbered forces, surrounded and fending off attackers from all sides with all manner of weapons and tactics. His entire fighting style was one that he crafted to render any form of superior ability or positioning as close to moot as possible. He wasn't normally one to play around with his opponents without a plan or disregard them out of hand.

The premise was simple: if you know ahead of time where your foe will attack, you can defend their target even if they are faster than you. It was remarkably simple to leave a tempting opening in his guard that even a fool would jump at, and then they were nothing more than puppets on strings to Archer's twin swords' counterattacks. In a life-or-death battle, he could use this tactic to fight multiple enemies and overcome opponents who were much faster, more experienced and stronger than him. It was a suicidal style that allowed absolutely zero errors, but it made defeating him close to impossible when you were caught in it.

These new guys didn't play the game, though. The openings he gave to the white bowman were taken like he wanted (albeit from a safe distance, rendering a counterattack tricky to execute), but the pugilist giant in front of him apparently decided that he didn't _need_ openings, forcing Archer to reset his momentum after each exchange.

Those large, armored fists attempted to crush Archer's guard with brute strength that exceeded his own by at least a full Rank. The fact that the shield covering his right arm could turn aside his swords harmlessly didn't help either. Parrying was painful on his arms, and his attempts to dodge were often interrupted by Uryu's rapid-fire arrows hemming him into Chad's startlingly fast jabs and crosses.

There was no space for them to change the pace in the hall. Archer needed a second to change tactics, while Chad and Uryu had yet to find a way past Archer's skilled defense. The battle had struck a precarious stalemate until something gave.

Uryu suddenly jumped through the broken window beside him and onto a pad of spirit particles, leaving the hall clear. Chad's black right arm slammed into Archer's crossed swords in that same instant, cracking the blades and straining Archer's arms.

"_El Directo,_" the giant declared, a blast of blue light suddenly roaring from his fist in a beam as large as his entire upper body. The red knight's swords crumbled completely beneath the stream of unexpected force that carried him painfully into the wall behind him and blasted him clear through the concrete and rebar. While his armor and some Reinforcement had taken the worst out of that blow, the blast still _hurt_. It wasn't a real spell either, simply raw destructive power barely shaped or processed. Archer had not seen it coming in the least, and that galled him.

In spite of the pain that would have a lesser man dropping into a stupor, Archer bore through it and immediately began altering his plans to account for Chad's new attack. In the moment just before gravity started pulling him down, he made sure to quickly analyze the position of his enemies and plan the next few dozen moves now that he had more room to maneuver. It would all depend on whether he could keep the two fighters separate long enough to deliver even one serious wound. Fighting both at the same time was maddening.

And then the floor beneath Chad's feet exploded.

Archer smirked. "_Steel is my body, and fire is my blood._" Two lines _should_ be enough.

* * *

Slipping out from another Shunpo, Renji alighted next to the walkway leading onto the Fuyuki Bridge, Hanataro joining him a second later. The Seventh Seat was stronger than when they crossed paths during Ichigo's rescue mission, but he was still nowhere near as fast or strong as Renji, even with the lieutenant's limiter on. Infuriatingly, Rider was already waiting for them, her thoughts as unreadable as always. Even without the mask hiding her eyes, the woman's body language gave away nothing.

Earlier this morning, Ichigo received a text message from Uryu stating that Archer was sighted at Homurabara High School. He had fought down the urge to rush to the scene knowing that both Chad and Rukia were there to back him up if a fight broke out.

Perhaps he was even more in tune with Rukia than usual without his excess power clouding his senses, but he could almost feel Rukia's unease when she raised her spiritual pressure for battle. At this distance Ichigo couldn't tell who or what she was fighting, but it was hurting her enough for her power to fluctuate. That was about five minutes ago. His gut told him a Servant had found her, and he long learned to trust his instincts.

Renji had wanted to take a look at their enemy, and Hantaro offered his medical expertise should they need it. Rider had obediently followed Ichigo's request to keep his friends safe, and she kept up with the invisible swordsmen with ease despite their use of Shunpo. More accurately, she let _them_ keep pace with _her_.

Ichigo had originally wanted to come himself, but Rider had reminded him of his need to recover his energy and that his friends were all far from helpless. Renji's suggestion to take the gigais to the hotel was also sensible. Ichigo hadn't liked it, but he agreed to it stiffly.

Rider was loath to leave him alone for long, but the Masters were unlikely to immediately attack him after last night, at least for a short time. Servants would not start a fight in a public location unless their Masters were insane or in danger. Word would have spread quickly, but the kind of power Ichigo displayed meant his friends were probably in more danger than he was at the moment, especially with Saber's weakened state posing another tempting target.

"How you holding up, Hanataro?" the lieutenant asked even as he extended his mediocre spiritual senses to keep track of the fight they had sensed. At this distance the powers involved were largely a jumbled mess, but the amount of spiritual pressure going around meant that he could easily get an idea where to go.

The little healer was only slightly winded at this point. "I can keep going. We've still got a ways to go, right?"

"Looks like it. I still can barely feel anything distinct at this range aside from Rukia's Soul Reaper spiritual pressure. There's definitely more than that though," Renji focused his gaze westward, attempting to will his mediocre awareness to sharpen more.

"Then it would be best to make sure it we do not delay." It took a second for the Soul Reapers to realize that Rider had already left them behind as soon as she said that. She darted down the river's edge, shooting up the underside of the bridge and shifted her footing to run upside-down under the bridge plane itself, her footsteps light enough that even people walking right over her couldn't hear her over the sound of car engines next to them.

Unlike the Soul Reapers, the Servant was perfectly visible to the human eye, so she had to move quickly and avoid areas where humans would pay attention to her. Crossing the bridge was the hardest part for this goal during the day.

She didn't let that bother her. She was incredibly swift even without a steed, and none could see her from down here. Even if a boater looked up, all they would see was a brief blur too indistinct to identify. When she reached the other side it was child's play to slip into the shadows of buildings and trees and out of sight. Only then would she stop the illusion hiding the Breaker Gorgon.

"What do you think of her?" Renji murmured to his fellow Soul Reaper as Rider pulled away despite their straighter path over the bridge.

"Who, Rider?" Hanataro timidly scratched his cheek. "I dunno. She… kinda scares me. It's like she's a predator and we're prey. I _think_ she's honest to Kurosaki-san, but… I'm not sure about the rest of us."

"I don't like it either. She's almost like a Hollow in a way," Renji agreed. "Let's keep an eye on her. She tries anything and we may have to fight her."

* * *

No sooner than preparations were completed for their trap and Shirou had positioned himself in front of the emergency exit that the magi found themselves meeting Rukia again. At the base of the stairway further down the hall, the black-clad swordswoman came to a halt and swept her eyes over the hall before locking on to the two magi. "Tohsaka… she followed us. I think her friends have tied up Archer."

"Damn it. Looks like I'll be trusting your eyes again," Rin muttered, carefully following Shirou's eyes to a spot at the base of the stairs where she presumed their enemy stood.

Shirou warily eyed the sword in her hand, the icy cold steel reflecting the ceiling lights like moonlight on snow, watching for her to make a move and… he would have to somehow disarm her before she brought it bear.

Without a weapon available.

Against a spirit that was able to manipulate ice.

He could summon Saber with another Command Spell, but then he would only have one Command Seal left. Worse, she was still recovering from last night. There was no way to know if she had the strength for another battle right now.

Well, at least he wasn't up against a Servant this time and Rin was available to back him up.

It was small comfort when the swordswoman started her approach, her free hand lightly grasping her sword's sheath. Her eyes flicked between the two magi and ended focusing on him. Shirou could clearly feel it now: her _presence_ was shifting, small amounts of prana moving through the air at her direction.

'_Shit! She realized Tohsaka can't see her but I can!_' Shirou moved in front of the magus just as the small girl moved. "Look out! She's-" He was cut off mid-sentence. Rukia seemed to materialize before him, her palm slamming into his solar plexus with enough force to blow him clear off his feet and flat on his back. He tried to get his feet under him when he felt a sudden weight drop onto his body, pinning him to the floor. From the sudden choked gasp and the thud, he realized that the same phenomenon had hit Rin hard enough to knock her to the floor. The very act of lifting his head to look towards the samurai took all of his willpower, and it felt like the blood in his head was pooling in the back of his brain.

Rukia's _shihakushou_ billowed in a wind only she could feel, her spiritual pressure almost crushing the two magi. To their credit, they were holding up far better than an ordinary human. The girl in particular, though initially startled by the sudden press of her soul's strength, was releasing a large amount of magical power in an attempt to push through it the same way Bazett had broken her Bakudo. It was futile: unlike with Bazett, this was not a spell that could be broken, but a continuous press of power. It was her spirit against theirs.

On the long term this kind of exposure would result in awakening spiritual awareness, but even a short blast could prove absolutely crushing to the unprepared human. Even if magi had superhuman abilities of their own, it appeared that they weren't used to continuously exerting their power in this kind of direct opposition. Admittedly it was probably wasteful for them to flood an area with their power, especially if a magus was trained to maximize output faster than their reserves grew. That would explain their fuzzy spiritual pressure and still managing to summon and bind powerful entities like Servants.

She refocused her attention to Shirou, catching his full focus with her voice. "You can hear me, can't you magus?" She kept it flat and cold, almost like her brother's and pulled her spiritual pressure back into tighter control. She still kept the other magus pinned as insurance, though she did allow her to breathe easier and almost completely retracted her power to allow the boy to speak.

"What do you want from us?" Shirou growled, gasping for air. The girl's power had left the air with a chilly feeling even after she pulled it back some. He just hoped Tohsaka was alright. Moving was still challenging, but he could at least shift somewhat and he wasn't being crushed so much as held down.

"That depends on you and her. For now, have your friend call off her Servant. I cannot allow this fight to continue." As if to emphasize her point, the windows rattled from a particularly vicious impact coming from above.

"Toh..." he cut himself off. He would rather not give this girl Tohsaka's name if he could. "...Don't move. She's standing right over you. She's asking for us to surrender," he growled. Like hell he was going to take her up on that, though. Not without a damn good reason. Shirou's mind started racing desperately, half-forgotten memories of helpless people dying around him while he did nothing dragging their way towards the surface. The number of lives he owed, the number of times he could do _nothing_.

Rin attempted to gather her power, accessing her family's Magic Crest's library of stored magecraft secrets for something to oppose this entity. It's presence was literally suffocating, and her attempts to purge whatever mystery was holding her down only brought her a moment's relief rather than actually break the spell's grip. Her best option was some sort of spiritual binding spell, but those took time to cast, time she didn't believe she had.

Shirou's teeth ground together so tightly it was a wonder they didn't crack from the strain. _'Move!'_ Here he was, helpless again and utterly unable to do a thing in the face of an enemy, disregarded as too weak to matter. He struggled physically and magically against the force pressing at his body from all sides. _'I have to move!'_ His fingers curled and his knees shook trying to stand. He needed a weapon, a weapon that could defeat the swordswoman in an instant. His artificial Magic Circuit felt like it was about to explode out of his spine, and his od started to roil and surge inside him. It somehow rippled through his body from the deepest reaches of his being, ignoring the normal channel.

_'MOVE, DAMMIT!'_

It was only the sudden spike of spiritual pressure next to her that warned Rukia of what was about to happen.

She snapped her focus to the redheaded amateur magus and found him bolting to his feet, sweat pouring from his brow even as he threw himself at her. He bulled into her spiritual pressure and visibly tensed, but forced himself to keep moving with almost suicidal abandon. Rukia's instincts had her lifting her blade towards the boy cautiously, unsure what the boy planned to do.

In his hands, white bars of light gathered and sizzled with spiritual power. The half-formed objects felt incomplete to her, like they were missing something fundamental and barely stable enough to function. The first few attacks were easy to parry: the boy was almost flailing at this point, every iota of effort spent simply on moving freely.

Shirou himself felt the "blades" of his hastily-formed weapons were brittle and weak, little more than bars of soft steel without definite shape. It felt like they could be forged into anything, but he had no idea what he wanted or needed them to be. The twin "swords" ate at his meager prana reserves, his body heating up from whatever force was trying to bypass his Magic Circuit. Still it was a weapon, one that he could use to drive back the samurai until Tohsaka could free herself.

As he swung the two swords endlessly, Shirou felt an increasing sense of detachment. Steps into each swing started to flow more easily, the cuts more and more precise even as his senses dulled subtly. He –_watched the bastard drop from the black sword's bite even as its white mate rose to cut another between the ribs- _struck more aggressively, forcing the small woman to actively parry his strikes or be forced back.

There was a slight tug on his mind, an image of –_spirit and technique, flawless and firm_- a white and a black sword spinning through the air. Already, small streams of prana were flowing through his Magic Circuit and out his hands around the white bars, trying to follow the sudden blueprint in the back of his mind with the white lights in his hands twisting to match. It wasn't fast enough; the lone artificial channel couldn't process prana quickly enough to complete the image before it degraded again.

Rukia rebuffed an attack and stepped out of the reach of the second sword before immediately stepping back in. She found herself defending against a strangely strengthened opponent. With speed that humans would call impossible, she slipped through Shirou's defenses and stabbed her sword into his bicep, hoping to discourage him, but he completely ignored it as though completely numb to pain. His combination attack started out sloppy, but the longer it went on, the more Rukia realized something:

His attacks were looking more and more like Archer's.

She mentally overlaid the Servant's image over the magus's and soon saw the almost disturbing similarity between them. The redhead had a shorter reach and he didn't have Archer's machine-like precision, but the cuts were following the same style and his footwork was spot-on. He lacked Archer's strength and speed as well, meaning that Rukia had no trouble countering his attacks in spite of the same technique all but destroying her earlier. He was just too slow to catch her in the same traps Archer had while he was constantly fighting her spiritual pressure. Every few exchanges, Rukia would put another cut along his limbs, and every time he ignored them. The boy kept trying to force her back, constantly pushing himself to move faster, little by little covering the gaps in his attacks. Rukia turned aside a reverse-grip swipe to her neck and nicking his leg before finally disengaging with a Shunpo, leaving the boy stumbling from his attempted follow up.

Rukia stopped about four meters from her opponent. Something was wrong. During that last attack, her blade had sought his thigh, the blade biting into the muscle, but instead of scratching bone, the blade hit something much shallower, a metallic shriek coming from there. For a split second, she could see something sharp and gleaming where her sword bit. Sharp-looking metal scales like the tips of swords interlocked just under his skin. The boy's body, his spiritual pressure... they were changing. She didn't notice it at first, but the longer they crossed blades, the easier it was to see he was shifting into something else. It was hard to tell with absolute certainty, but it was almost like the redhead was becoming less human, all the while his spiritual pressure becoming more and more like Archer's.

If Shirou looked in a mirror at that moment, he would have seen that his face was wearing the exact same sharp, cool glare Archer presented to his enemies. With the -_blades forged through sacrifice_- in his hands, he prepared to reengage the -_enemy_-. At that moment, he felt the massive shock to his system as Chad's _El Directo _fired. The spiritual pressure it exuded was like a blackjack to the skull, reorganizing Shirou's disjointed thoughts and his weapons winked out. He shook his head to regain his bearings, wincing as his numerous shallow wounds caught up to him.

While the Soul Reaper was contemplating how to handle the bizarre situation, her brief retreat gave Rin a moment to breathe without the unnatural weight on her. Rather than gasp for breath and sit up, she forced herself to remain calm and still. The pigtailed magus turned her head slightly to see Shirou standing before her, panting and sweating like he had run a marathon in a sauna. From her angle, she could clearly see his legs shaking from the strain. He was looking at something further down the hall. She still could not see what it was he was looking at, but she could feel the entity's presence further down the hall as a chill whenever she focused on a specific spot. Rin's magical senses ran wild with the amount of prana it was generating, an order of magnitude of what she could usually store in herself, just like Archer and the other Servants she had seen. The most she could detect visually was a faint shadow there.

And just over its head was her gem.

Were the situation not so dire, she would have smiled vindictively at the sight. "_Anfang,_" she incanted, breaking the gem's hold on its magic, allowing it to expel violently in a small but bright ball of golden light that, as Rin had promised, tore a three-meter gap in the ceiling and dragged down part of the nearest classroom, the walls and everything unfortunate enough to be standing near the tiny stone.

Even in his hyper-focused combat state, Shirou reminded himself again _never_ to make Rin angry enough to use one of those jewels on him.

Caught completely by surprise at the spike of power directly overhead, Rukia had no time to even slip into a Shunpo before the blast wave hit, slamming her into the ground hard enough to crack it. Fiery pain pressed down on her back even as she armored herself with her spiritual pressure. This did nothing to keep her from being half-buried by the debris. She could only watch as the two magi burst through the emergency exit, setting off the fire alarm as they made their escape. "Damn it!"

Chad's large form dropped on top of her from the hole. He barely managed to get his arms beneath him in time to stop himself from crushing Rukia beneath his bulk. Dropping ten feet was but a minor distraction for the giant: the worst damage was to his lower legs where the blast had slashed him with magically saturated debris and blown his shoes apart. He had dealt with far worse before, and Chad was on his feet without so much as a grimace, pausing only to pluck a couple shards of concrete from his supernaturally tough skin and to dig up Rukia. "You alright?

"Mostly. That last attack had more spirit energy in it than I expected." Rukia winced as she regained her feet, her back popping noisily. She drew Sode no Shirayuki slowly, her temper ice cold. This time she would have to be more forceful. Underestimating Saber's Master had cost her a golden opportunity.

A rookie mistake, she chastised. Just because they weren't Hollows or Servants didn't mean they couldn't be just as dangerous or canny in their own ways. "Can you still hold Archer off? The Masters are making a break for it," she explained hurriedly.

Before Chad could answer, they felt Uryu's spiritual signature fall and nearly wink out entirely.

* * *

As much as Uryu preferred having the high ground in a firefight, he didn't think hanging in midair was a wise idea when fighting the Knight of the Bow in broad daylight. So when he saw Archer line up a sword on his bow at Chad's back through the wall, he started diving rather than try and rain arrows from on high. "Never take your eyes off your enemy!" Strafing to the side, he attempted to circle the building to push Archer back.

Archer didn't even turn to him, but he did start stepping away to avoid the barrage. A jagged sword then materialized less than a foot from Uryu's torso, positioned to enter his chest as he moved. The sword was already moving on its own! '_He can control them without his bow?!_'

To Archer's surprise, the entirely human teen somehow reacted in time to jerk to the side just enough to only have his left lung punctured as opposed to dying immediately.

And then a blue arrow nearly impaled his bow arm. Archer jumped back to keep his distance. Uryu was still charging even with a sword imbedded in his chest! At the same time, the school's fire alarm went off, putting a two-minute timetable on his options. He retreated behind the school before turning to face Uryu, the woods at his back. Dismissing his bow, Archer shifted his grip on the sword he had Projected, revealing it to be Balisarda.

The deceptively simple sword's appearance brought Uryu up short. He remembered that sword's properties very clearly.

That was all the hesitation Archer needed. He had learned well from the last time they fought: the younger warrior was quick-thinking but highly methodical and analytical. Throwing him off his prior analyses by shifting tactics suddenly rendered him vulnerable for a handful of seconds. The teen had seen his skill before, but had no _clue_ how many tools Archer had in his repertoire.

He added a new weapon to his free hand: a long red spear, its thin blade gleaming with a purple sheen. He didn't like using this particular weapon often due to how it could affect his own weapons, but it had a nasty property for those who relied on prana and constructs to do serious fighting. Gae Dearg's touch disrupted prana so long as it maintained contact and all but ignored projected armaments. Of course, this meant that if he touched his own weapons with it, they'd break apart instantly.

The Red Rose of Exorcism slid through Uryu's bow effortlessly, slicing it in two and disrupting the Quincy's grasp of the spirit particles around him, leaving him no faster than an ordinary human for a split second before Uryu reasserted control. Stepping forward smoothly during that tiny window, Archer stabbed Balisarda forward, carving open his thigh and nearly splitting the bone. Only repeated experience with even worse pain kept Uryu from screaming as he dropped to the ground at Archer's mercy.

He didn't have much of that these days.

Just as he raised his sword for the killing blow, a low rolling bang like a thunder strike sounded next to Archer, followed by an armored fist slamming into his hastily crossed weapons, blasting him backwards through sheer force.

_Paso Gigantesco_, the Step of the Giant, was Chad's personal take on the Hirenkyaku and Sonido techniques. As a human with a body, Chad had some physical limitations compared to a Soul Reaper's freed soul, and the fine control required of a Quincy just didn't come naturally enough for him to use in a heated battle. Chad spent much of the last month trying to create his own high-speed move based on what he knew about his Hollow-like powers. The result was _Paso Gigantesco_. Though currently slower than Sonido and still somewhat inefficient, it allowed the half-Mexican to make sudden, nigh-unstoppable charges in a pinch.

Uryu took smug comfort in the brief look of frustration that flicked across the Servant's hawkish features when he stopped and dismissed the spear. There wasn't much left in the Quincy for more than that. His head felt funny and everything hurt but in a fuzzy, detached way. Clinically, Uryu knew he was bleeding out and probably going into shock. His ruined lung was catching up to him even if he was using his spirit energy to force his body to work past it. That moment of disruption cost him more than just a leg.

Despite that, he continued to pull spirit particles to him. The focus required kept him awake and mostly lucid. If he could gather enough, he might still be able to fight…

Rukia was at his side instantly, her frantic expression belying the steady and careful way she pushed her healing kido through him while Chad struggled to force Archer back. "Stay with me, Ishida! Focus on me!" the tiny Soul Reaper urged desperately.

Archer had a much easier time compensating for Chad's style in a one on one fight. The spear was too long for this, but his swordsmanship was more than enough. He was scoring clean hits too, but the giant's strength and durability were absurd. Every blow he had to parry reverberated through his bones. A stab to the white arm bit through the armor and a slash almost gutted him, but neither one slowed him down or made him give an inch of ground in the slightest. It was like he was immune to pain and logic when defending something… almost like a false Berserker.

His analysis was interrupted by Chad's fist taking a long gash up the length of his arm in exchange for completely bypassing Archer's swords and slamming his stomach hard enough to double him over and blow him off his feet. '_What the hell is with these people?_' he asked himself again, rolling along the ground and regaining his feet at the treeline behind him. The giant had simply abandoned all defense in that last attack, sacrificing his arm to get a hit in that would kill a normal man instantly!

No sooner had he blinked the spots from his eyes that a black blur tried to use his head as a soccer ball. A long leg just barely missed his nose when he leaned back and Archer got a clear look at the attacker. Things just went from "barely manageable" to "extremely dangerous:" Rider was here, dressed in ordinary human clothes rather than that little black dress, but still wearing the distinct half-mask.

He leaped back and prepared to Trace another weapon when he found himself dodging again, this time from a long segmented whip made of bladed slabs of steel linked by what looked like wires and a bony spine. The weapon was another weirdly uncanny thing like the small samurai girl's, and its user wore the same uniform as she did. A third uniformed swordsman was rushing over to the maimed bowman. He all but swore at the additional reinforcements when he faced them.

"Renji!" the girl shouted in a mix of disbelief and relief. She recognized him as an ally, perhaps even a friend.

So they were _all _working together? That complicated matters and made him wonder why they hadn't ganged up on the Masters and killed them all yet. They were either stupid, completely in the dark about what they were dealing with or naive. He bet the latter, given the way they fought and approached the War: killing Rin and the idiot never seemed to cross their minds to deal with him and Saber. How could they survive in this world at all?

And how the hell was that bowman standing up so easily?

Uryu just glared coldly at Archer, silently thanking his ancestors for creating the _Ranso Tengai_ for situations like these. Puppeteering his body despite Hanataro's protests and Rukia's awe, Uryu readied another shot while ignoring the jagged sword still in his chest. If Archer didn't rip him limb from limb, he could still fight no matter his injuries.

Between a stubborn mountain of a human, an archer that didn't believe in "crippling damage," a Servant (by far the biggest danger) and the robed swordsmen, Archer was no longer sure he could pull off a victory even if he burned himself out in the process. That wasn't even accounting for the fire department coming to make the situation worse by stumbling upon the Holy Grail War. He'd had enough of killing random witnesses for ten thousand lifetimes.

He put on a strong front, trying to appear as invincible as he could in spite of the pain. "Consider this a bit of a warning. You're all running to your graves interfering with the Holy Grail War. Just go home and forget you were ever here." Dismissing Balisarda and arming himself with Kanshou and Bakuya in case they tried to pursue, Archer stepped back into the tree line and out of sight before dematerializing. He was actually surprised that none of them tried to follow him, but he wasn't about to comment on it. That said, he did have to zig-zag into the cover of forest and deflect a handful of Uryu's parting shots.

In reply, he released the sword he had left in Uryu, letting it dissolve to nothing and leaving the raven-haired boy with a ragged hole through his chest. The sound was akin to breaking glass, drawing Hanataro's focus to the golden dust fading out of existence where there once was a three-foot sword. Uryu's inarticulate gurgle at the searing sensation had the medic slipping into his professional role. Cries of shock, horror and worry from the rest only steeled his resolve.

He wasted no time getting to work on the Quincy, taking over for Rukia with his healing kido. Rukia was far stronger, but Hanataro for all his timidity was a trained professional in the healing arts and better equipped for the job. "This is not good. I don't have time to formally treat a wound that severe. Stay still Ishida-san: I'll have to do a patch job for now," he said in a remarkably steady tone and drew his zanpakutou.

The sealed blade was an ordinary katana aside from the strange thermometer-like gauge in its side. When he pressed it to the horrid hole, the wound slowly knit itself, mending as Hisagomaru absorbed the damage. The gauge filled almost immediately, the miraculous healing coming to a halt as soon as it filled completely with a tiny "ding!" The lung's half-healed wall was thin and fragile, but it would hold if he was careful, but the flesh around it was still raw, bloody and ragged. "That's the best Hisagomaru can do right now. Try to breathe slowly and if you have to speak do it softly or you might risk a rupture before we get you treated."

If anything, the pain in Uryu's chest that punctuated every breath was worse in its current state, but it was better than bleeding out and dying with a collapsed lung, so he made himself nod slowly. "Then… we better move." Uryu managed to hiss. His skin was still frighteningly pale and drawn, and his jaw was tightly clenched against the pain. "I don't know how long… I can hold _Ranso Tengai_ right now. Let's at least reach the trees."

Threads of spirit energy moved his body for him, allowing the ravaged Quincy to walk somewhat steadily without straining his flesh, but Hanataro still fretted over his wounds, trying his best to heal the Quincy while they moved. Uryu had only used this technique once before in battle, but he was glad he had mastered it so long ago… _'Funny, I only mastered it six months ago, but it feels so much longer. We've led busy lives,'_ he thought with a hint of amusement.

As soon as that was taken care of and the tension left the air, Chad dropped to one knee, his arms shaking slightly and his jaw clenched. For someone who could shrug off getting hit by a car or having an I-beam land on him even before he gained his powers, it said much of how much pain he was in. Blood stained his shirt along the cut that almost breached his abdominal cavity, and his left arm was limp at his side now that he had released his armor. He couldn't move two of his fingers without his spirit energy helping him either. A few tendons in there must have been nicked. "What a mess," he grumbled.

Renji sealed Zabimaru and eyed the trees. "I think that Servant guy's gone, too. We need to get you guys out of here. The police will be here soon and…" he gestured vaguely to the battered and torn school building behind him, the fire alarm's shriek still echoing across the campus. There were distinct disadvantages to being humanly visible. Finally turning back his friends plus the Servant, Renji winced. "…Jeez, Ichigo wasn't kidding about these guys needing to be taken seriously."

Rider stood next to Chad and offered her shoulder to lean on when he stood up. "I'm sorry we could not get here sooner."

"It's fine. Ichigo send you?" Chad found himself leaning slightly on the woman before straightening stubbornly. '_I need to buy a new pair of shoes._'

"Yes. He was worried when he realized you might be fighting a Servant. It is fortunate we arrived in time."

Renji's rough voice added, "Speaking of which, I expect some answers when we're all together. How the hell did that guy fend off all three of you and not lose at least one limb?" He shook his head. These Servants could not be natural things no matter their supposedly legendary origins. How else could someone with such unstable spiritual pressure match Sado, Rukia _and_ Ishida?

"I'll cover our tracks. Go on ahead, I'll be right behind you," Rukia told them as she wove another kido wordlessly. The spell was a simplified version of Bakudo 26: _Kyokkou._ The patch-job illusion was used to hide bloodstains after particularly violent battles like this one, usually cast after a human bystander was killed by a Hollow during heavy combat and when there was no easy way to replace a passerby's memories at the time. She would need to come back and deal with it more permanently later when she was sure her friends were alright.

As they passed along their messages to their friends and retreated deeper into the woods, they failed to notice the silent birds watching them from the bare branches.

By the time the fire department arrived, there was no one in sight and no sign someone had nearly bled to death. Any relevant memories of the sheer oddness they found at the school were dealt with by a passing man of the cloth.

* * *

The magi finally stopped to catch their breath at the edge of the treeline along the southern edge of Fuyuki. Only an absolute idiot would retreat to their home base in a straight line. "O…Okay. We… we should be okay," Rin panted. Even with Reinforcement bolstering her speed and endurance, it was taxing to run to the trees to the south of Miyama and then skirt the edge for almost a full mile after through undeveloped woods at top speed.

Shirou caught up a moment later, his body running on something less efficient than Reinforcement, but still enough to let him almost keep pace. Maybe it was connected to those strange white bars he conjured? He almost collapsed the moment he reached her, leaning against a tree as the adrenaline started to wear off. He was so tired. "We lose them?" Shirou managed to wheeze. "What about Archer?"

"Archer… should be able to handle it." Rin had no doubts about that. She could feel his confident, cool mind through her Contract. "…So. What we're gonna do… is make a stop before we get back to your house, Emiya-kun." Straightening, the school idol placed a hand on her hip and regained her poise.

"Where?"

"My house. There are some things there that'll hopefully help deal with our problems. I didn't think we'd need some of the things there, so I didn't pack them. If we do this right, anyone tailing us will run right into the property's Boundary Fields and solve themselves." Rin sounded so pleased and genteel as she envisioned the horrible agony that would come to those who tried to force their way into the Tohsaka estate. For Shirou, her peppy, friendly smile was a thousand times more terrifying than any devious cackle she might have released.

Rin flipped one of her pigtails over her shoulder. "We'll follow the trees for a little longer. There's a short trail that comes out of the woods and hooks up to a back road behind my house. Archer will meet up with us when he gets a chance."

"Sounds like a good plan. If we came back as we are without something useful Saber would probably strangle me for not calling her," Shirou added with a chuckle.

The pair walked side by side in silence for a few minutes, the natural sounds of the woods, the birds, the leaves rustling around them, all felt more meaningful than talking right now. The world sounded like it was reminding them they had managed to survive to fight another day.

Rin finally broke the silence when she could clearly see her house. "Emiya-kun, what happened back there? When that spirit had me paralyzed, I mean. I still couldn't see anything, but you obviously attacked it, but I couldn't tell what it was you were doing."

A brief jolt went through Shirou's mind as he thought back to that instant. When he had all but bypassed his own Magic Circuit and made… something… out of his prana. "I… don't know. It was like my need to save you overrode everything. I couldn't focus enough prana to break her spell with my Circuit and I just… overloaded. I was trying to make a weapon to fight her with." His body still felt lighter than normal, but that could have just been the adrenaline. "When I started trying to hit her, it almost felt like I wasn't even there, like my intent was overwhelming my consciousness."

Listening to his driving motivation caused Rin to turn sharply away, hiding a blush. "I can't even begin to tell you how much that does not make sense, but that seems par for the course these days," Rin sighed. "Do you think you could do it again? It might be a useful ability if you can at least understand it a little."

Shirou looked at his hands briefly. "Maybe. I don't know what triggered it specifically. Now that you mention it, it sort of feels like something stuck inside me came loose."

"It's a start. We'll look at it when we start training tonight. Any numbness? Pain?"

"No, nothing like that, why?"

"It's possible that what you described is from a dormant Magic Circuit or two activating. Usually that has negative side effects after the initial activation, usually numbness."

"Oh…" So far, Shirou felt alright, but if Rin said that's how it worked, then he'd keep an eye out for possible symptoms. Maybe that explained why it hurt so much when he made his Magic Circuit.

"_Let it be known that I'm against the waste of time,_" a familiarly cool and even voice commented from behind.

Shirou nearly jumped out of his skin and spun to face the astralized Servant, while Rin simply released a long-suffering sigh. "Noted. Moving on," she spun on her heel and continued through the trees, leaving the men to follow her.

"'Waste of time?' What makes you think that?" Shirou snapped. Everything that came out of this man's mouth just seemed to set him off. If the same words were spoken by another person he would have shrugged them off with a chuckle.

Archer crossed his arms. _"Simple: even if you learned how _to_ fight, I don't smell any blood on you."_

"…You don't smell blood? What does that have to do with anything?"

"_Everything, you amateur. You have no experience taking lives, nor do you have time to learn useful magic. Unlike Rin, you bring nothing to the table aside from suicidal tendencies. If the Servants and Masters were my only enemies, I would be completely against indulging in Rin's kindness with this partnership. As badly outnumbered as we are by Rider's allies, we need Saber's skills to be sure of our survival. You're lucky in that regard, I suppose. Just stay home and you might actually live through this."_

Shirou's fists tightened. Oh he _really_ wanted to punch the Servant's teeth down his throat. While he openly admitted his amateur status, that did not give Archer the right to talk down to him so blithely! His temper seethed, and unnoticed by him but to Archer's surprise, white slivers of light peeked through his fingers briefly. "I am _not_ abandoning the innocent people that might be caught up in this just because it's safer for me."

Archer's smirk vanished. In its place was a focused but intense hostility, as though he were offended by Shirou's declaration. _"Suit yourself. Just know that one of these days that refusal will kill more than just you."_

"What are you two doing back there? Hurry up and come on!" Rin snapped, tapping her foot impatiently from further up the hill.

Archer shrugged and then followed after his Master as though the last few minutes hadn't happened. _"Rin, it's worse than we thought. _All_ of our attackers from the school are allied with Rider and her Master. There are at least seven who are combat-capable, counting Servant and Master."_

"Seven?" Rin choked, suddenly rooted to the spot.

"_None of them are as powerful as Kurosaki and Rider. They have skill and experience, but they don't appear to have much in the way of team tactics. I get the impression they are used to fighting one on one or while outnumbered. Not badly enough to get in each other's ways, but still a noticeable trait."_

"Alright, that's something. Did you eliminate any of them?"

"_No. I almost did, but he used an unorthodox magecraft to get back up with a broken leg and hold a steady aim despite the sword I left in his lung,"_ he answered with a shrug. _"It might be best to let them stew for now. They are likely going to avoid another direct confrontation without Rider, and if we keep low they'll weaken themselves attacking the other Masters. Win or lose, they'll prove useful there."_

It was a sound plan. Cool and logical that bought them time to recover and mount a better defense. Maybe it was the fact that it was so logical that somehow rubbed Shirou the wrong way. It put too much faith on the morals of seven warriors who could cripple magi with unknown magecraft and armed to the teeth. He would prefer it if he was allowed to know every Master's motivations first and know for certain that no one was going to die.

He recalled Kurosaki's similar question. _"Why are you fighting for the Holy Grail?"_

During the remainder of the walk to Rin's house, he wondered what might have happened today if he had answered him.


End file.
